Three Minutes Back
October 11, 2006
I came back from the side of the wall.
My legs are for walking, can stand up and say how.
As in a dream, wake up, suddenly. Find himself weeping. Remember in one breath.
And then there's just the spark that turned the key in the picture and everything is focused, like a click in my head that tells you it still works. Perhaps only some probable fault, but those are imbued throughout the journey.
The panic mixed with burning tears. It can even be enjoyable if you think you can, however, recognize. Tell.
can be fierce and sweet, give you more color on the eyes. While those who realize that still exist ...
Life is a breeze.
I caressed the other night, while bouncing between the eyebrows and forehead wrinkles of weariness. She gave me a slap, a hint of a disturbance.
Sometimes stubbornness should allow to rest in a jar of feathers.
Life is also a fairy tale. Plan to be said, maybe twisted, under a blanket.
looked me in the face, a bit 'stiff, and whispered to me' calm down '. It is not enough, I did not want.
Needles changing, vivid, true and too dense than the joke of the night.
What happened?
But I just closed my eyes.
Just a moment, like when I kidnap kisses on the neck and down my spine swarms of racing shells. Enclose chills. Release words. Portend an orgasm.
And now the climax is a crash, as a liberation of shots convoluted, lies on my flesh as infection, I almost ripping the heart from his chest.
yet still beating, the hand painful listen.
And who, besides my hand?
But life is a sister and a whore at the same time, spreading her thighs when you want and you dig the brain, makes you cry or stop breathing. Raises you up, as if I were god. Makes you
stone or gives you wings. And now I pinch
repeatedly, while I think of caresses, kisses, and fingers through his hair, and if I close my eyes I will stop my breath, my nipples hurt like when it is very cold and there's hot hand that can alleviate the pain. Pinch me and I remain silent. To absorb my vulnerability as a child, girl, woman.
I summarize in a purple page.
As I walk, with quiet, narrow streets of thoughts and shudder, and I need riaddensarmi.
still keep a hand up to eye I'll wave.
("one always comes back to the old places where he loved life")
Chavela Vargas
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Nissan Xtrail Roof Rack
apnea
E 'there are moments that really strange. Of those
you think about life, and it makes you bite it.
Because there are those times when you want that fucking all slide slowly down his throat, taking care of the folds of the palate, exorcising unpleasant tastes.
There are moments where lots more where you feel what you feel terribly weak and it hurts, christ, it really hurts, and leaves you inadvertently confused, bewildered, stupid, you'd only be confined in an institution for failure d ' discernment.
But instead you mean all right, shit, you mean and want. Holy shit what you want.
And then come back in ten times when you swim and you seem to go in the opposite direction, a current that drags down, the kind that if you exceed the surface in the opposite direction, then it's your cock, or cracks or learn to breathe in absence of air.
Moments when you seem to remain in apnea for an indefinite time, you could be God and to challenge the impossible without tricks, without compromise. Eating of hell and complications.
But then, 'hey, what the fuck do you do', you say, and while, go, so go to the max, push up that fucking throttle, her thighs wide, while the man you want, next to you, you wild and masturbates You close my eyes on the road waving, and he sniffs the panties that show you a few moments before, on the street, making him imagine your smell, your flesh.
And the road that looks like a wall where you fight against them has a specific color, or is a liquid path, where even if you lower eyelids are still perfectly fluid and compact, light fire ice shadows hands mouths heart drum beats that matter what, what not, everything seems so real that he decided to turn almost in a dream.
While he touches you, thrusting two fingers in, the blood runs stronger, asks her out, he wants to take away his breath as his mouth which is now over and whispers that he wants to fuck you, and the next moment, who loves you.
'Look into my eyes, I do not care if you are driving a saw, look at me'.
me still hurts.
And then I will be immortal after any crash. Inevitable.
There are secrets that is impossible to maintain, even just for the sake of trying to do, then you feel like giving you, for who you are, for what you feel, and the curse that has power, capacitance and still dream of being able to sink the night in a dense ball of eyes, crooked, but you really look at what is real and Christ, that we almost feel my head come from the hole .
And it feels like eclipses, wrapped in warm shades that only put at ease, and the light is all that is said without words, hanks of sensation soups soul worse than a tissue eaten by a downpour.
'Ficcami two fingers in his mouth, masturbala, watching you as if to push him to get in my throat, let this pain that goes down and takes my belly and makes knot in the stomach, enters the ear whispering, including anxiety and nonsense illogical '
There are moments when everything seems to peace. And fairy tales, too. Other
in which the peace you just forget and you feel like an animal in pain.
It takes so little to destroy and rebuild, not to say that it's time to believe in nothing. Do not let themselves be affected by dyslexia of professionalism of nothing, breathing survivals. Wind
to merge into a single point in the brain, air flows to decline, irises wide open and then silenced, rivers of clear.
I look at the bruising on my arm that I have, I think the subtle displeasure when will disappear, but under the skin, there remains the vehemence and the delicacy of your finger, swallow and I am. Still apnea.
What a moment that. Of those who burn and when you close your eyes to stop there is. And perhaps it goes so fast you do not know whether to laugh or cry, and go and do not notice, so to hear a languor believing that it is hungry, and you got really hungry for lunch, but suggest that you do not know The reality now is that the snack, four hours to make love and cares of the world out there. Moments when you do not even know what it means to the boredom. Moments of flesh, lost fingers in every corner of us, and without blood, so much that he wanted the entire cost of all quanta.A.
Maybe she smiled and changed his tone, call me 'bitch' and my echo bouncing on your face looks pleased. Here's what you are.
Soaked to those reactions that I like damn, so that is a delusion to have you on, start him inside not to give vent to time to heal from their compressions.
you hear me ask 'excuse', knowing that I will not.
And we try, more and more heavily. With my amazement the power of your sweetness. These contrasts
you, I have.
Games initiation, simply unbuttoning his shirt, leaving me for an hour non-stop from harassing your fingers before urlarti in the mouth, be together with your hands on the neck to push the cock and its twentieth erection. Switch between tongue and lips, sucking the same time, right when I get pity and I I'm not saving.
are moments in the offenses are not to burn. Times when we just talk and talk about it.
And then there are times when it's time to be silent.
To then say all the missed words, under the sheets, and nothing but hot wax on the chapel, we talk face to face, insulting and shouting under the loud music and soft lighting, a kitchen knife on the table, emotions and pure life, for no reason and be right.
Just breathtaking.
And then if the weather is too fast and nailed to the wall of the walls of our meat is difficult to precisely, let him fuck even so, the cyclone of his unstoppable.
Meanwhile, let us here, including feathers and cash equivalents prostheses and skies.
the suggestion of a dream, nell'arrendevolezza of abandonment.
here, still here. In the fragment of an eternal time.
E 'there are moments that really strange. Of those
you think about life, and it makes you bite it.
Because there are those times when you want that fucking all slide slowly down his throat, taking care of the folds of the palate, exorcising unpleasant tastes.
There are moments where lots more where you feel what you feel terribly weak and it hurts, christ, it really hurts, and leaves you inadvertently confused, bewildered, stupid, you'd only be confined in an institution for failure d ' discernment.
But instead you mean all right, shit, you mean and want. Holy shit what you want.
And then come back in ten times when you swim and you seem to go in the opposite direction, a current that drags down, the kind that if you exceed the surface in the opposite direction, then it's your cock, or cracks or learn to breathe in absence of air.
Moments when you seem to remain in apnea for an indefinite time, you could be God and to challenge the impossible without tricks, without compromise. Eating of hell and complications.
But then, 'hey, what the fuck do you do', you say, and while, go, so go to the max, push up that fucking throttle, her thighs wide, while the man you want, next to you, you wild and masturbates You close my eyes on the road waving, and he sniffs the panties that show you a few moments before, on the street, making him imagine your smell, your flesh.
And the road that looks like a wall where you fight against them has a specific color, or is a liquid path, where even if you lower eyelids are still perfectly fluid and compact, light fire ice shadows hands mouths heart drum beats that matter what, what not, everything seems so real that he decided to turn almost in a dream.
While he touches you, thrusting two fingers in, the blood runs stronger, asks her out, he wants to take away his breath as his mouth which is now over and whispers that he wants to fuck you, and the next moment, who loves you.
'Look into my eyes, I do not care if you are driving a saw, look at me'.
me still hurts.
And then I will be immortal after any crash. Inevitable.
There are secrets that is impossible to maintain, even just for the sake of trying to do, then you feel like giving you, for who you are, for what you feel, and the curse that has power, capacitance and still dream of being able to sink the night in a dense ball of eyes, crooked, but you really look at what is real and Christ, that we almost feel my head come from the hole .
And it feels like eclipses, wrapped in warm shades that only put at ease, and the light is all that is said without words, hanks of sensation soups soul worse than a tissue eaten by a downpour.
'Ficcami two fingers in his mouth, masturbala, watching you as if to push him to get in my throat, let this pain that goes down and takes my belly and makes knot in the stomach, enters the ear whispering, including anxiety and nonsense illogical '
There are moments when everything seems to peace. And fairy tales, too. Other
in which the peace you just forget and you feel like an animal in pain.
It takes so little to destroy and rebuild, not to say that it's time to believe in nothing. Do not let themselves be affected by dyslexia of professionalism of nothing, breathing survivals. Wind
to merge into a single point in the brain, air flows to decline, irises wide open and then silenced, rivers of clear.
I look at the bruising on my arm that I have, I think the subtle displeasure when will disappear, but under the skin, there remains the vehemence and the delicacy of your finger, swallow and I am. Still apnea.
What a moment that. Of those who burn and when you close your eyes to stop there is. And perhaps it goes so fast you do not know whether to laugh or cry, and go and do not notice, so to hear a languor believing that it is hungry, and you got really hungry for lunch, but suggest that you do not know The reality now is that the snack, four hours to make love and cares of the world out there. Moments when you do not even know what it means to the boredom. Moments of flesh, lost fingers in every corner of us, and without blood, so much that he wanted the entire cost of all quanta.A.
Maybe she smiled and changed his tone, call me 'bitch' and my echo bouncing on your face looks pleased. Here's what you are.
Soaked to those reactions that I like damn, so that is a delusion to have you on, start him inside not to give vent to time to heal from their compressions.
you hear me ask 'excuse', knowing that I will not.
And we try, more and more heavily. With my amazement the power of your sweetness. These contrasts
you, I have.
Games initiation, simply unbuttoning his shirt, leaving me for an hour non-stop from harassing your fingers before urlarti in the mouth, be together with your hands on the neck to push the cock and its twentieth erection. Switch between tongue and lips, sucking the same time, right when I get pity and I I'm not saving.
are moments in the offenses are not to burn. Times when we just talk and talk about it.
And then there are times when it's time to be silent.
To then say all the missed words, under the sheets, and nothing but hot wax on the chapel, we talk face to face, insulting and shouting under the loud music and soft lighting, a kitchen knife on the table, emotions and pure life, for no reason and be right.
Just breathtaking.
And then if the weather is too fast and nailed to the wall of the walls of our meat is difficult to precisely, let him fuck even so, the cyclone of his unstoppable.
Meanwhile, let us here, including feathers and cash equivalents prostheses and skies.
the suggestion of a dream, nell'arrendevolezza of abandonment.
here, still here. In the fragment of an eternal time.
How Much Does A Wedding Cost In Gatl
I had imagined.
The cracking of the skin under the eyes. The smell of meat covered with lids.
I had estimated.
the passing of a word from ear to ear. Its eco edge.
I had considered.
The power of the non-premeditated. The pride of surprise.
I had feared. The liquidity of the cavities
dense mix to tears. The persistence of excess. The mastery of tone.
I had enjoyed. Me as sin. Bella. And the wine that looks like me ... to be bribed. Maybe in a meal also.
Not yet.
Now that I have only three minutes.
Now that I have just three breaths.
to tell you.
Luce founded in the room.
'sssss blindfolded and then decide ... I want you'
purple walls set fire to the reflections of the bed. The sheets seem rough to the eye, reminiscent of the one small window of the tent canvas. There is nothing, except for a tiny refrigerator, a pitcher in that bed in a corner and center of the room. And warm blood mixed with mirrors on the walls. It 'a mirror to the ceiling. The
approaches, the dress is long, black, seems to give up breast all'irruenza clearly adhering to the skin, becoming rather arrogant fluidity in the bottom, saying a gap which can outline the red lace thong. Above anything, the dress does not allow it, holds the neck in a strip of cloth, but what gives the breast subtracts the back, left bare, almost like an invitation ...
wood under your feet accentuates the perception.
Barefoot. Altera. fragile. Fair.
Female. Child.
She whispers
'.. three minutes'
As he bent and feet, tearing one end rests on the neck portion of the dress.
'OK, three minutes'
The distance between them is the millimeter, no more words needed, as they are not served before, during the journey by car or on that note found under the door, black paper with no words, just a scratch caused, enhanced by the contrast in color due to the effect of the nail on the paper.
Eyes.
You stare. Mingle. It is stunning. Injected into.
three minutes.
While he did not leave the two ends of the fabric, which is now to join the neck, gripping her throat.
irises. A
not absent. To join. To accumulate. Pupils
dense. Heavy. A dilated. Looks
mixed with horns mixed with pain mixed with pleasure.
Meanwhile, the fabric colors them red cheeks, swells the veins, does open her mouth, the breath shorten.
three minutes. To exacerbate the time. Space.
only three minutes. In order not to distort, not to survive, to not defend themselves. Only three minutes ...
To stretch the endurance to the extreme of saying.
to enjoy that last breath as unique and unrepeatable. To feed the crash.
Three minutes only. To make
arrhythmic pulse swing contrasts.
three minutes.
completed. Coincidence
pressure. On the throat and eyes, the moment before his hands leave the strip of cloth and rescue the weight of her body, collapsed by avoiding the drop to the ground.
'Three minutes ... You've been good '
' Hell is here? '
'Now take breath, you'll need'
Meanwhile, covers his eyes.
run a finger on his lips, it upsets the bright red robe hook unbuttoning the back of the neck, it bites into the corresponding point in the throat, yet obviously livid, almost purple, biting the flesh strong, arming reaction in his hands, and as claws hour mark the ends of the shoulders.
She shudders, and the dress slipped down, reaching life, revealing her breasts, wincing for a moment, aware that blood requires more blood, responsive to those teeth reciprocates the gesture displaying impulsivity, animating chills.
With a gesture, he blocks it.
'Turn around. I want to smell you. Wet your bare back '
perceptions of it is worse, except the sense of sight, hearing and smell are much more pronounced and shared the game is not bad, it allows ease and abandon, instigates excitement.
control is left for now. Be left to drain. How greedy of fluidity.
urban rivers.
joining the sinking that the gesture of attorney.
Suddenly another temperature contrast makes arching his back, a cold stream merged hypothetical line of the spine from its peak fitting an ice cube, pressed strongly, supported at that point, anesthetizing, emphasizing discomfort, pain . Replaced soon after by the warmth of a red decanted ground in a corner of the room.
seems to burn. And the feeling becomes real to the touch of a finger point that identity, to make the groove by forcing the nail, to accentuate the depth with the addition of saliva.
He follows the line with the language.
She sniffs the air as the ice is mixed with wine hours are wedged between the fabric of the garment and the split of the lower back.
'Place your hand on the bed and lifted her dress. So he spreads his legs, I want to see good ass'
She does not move. It seems challenging. Her smile, like a smirk.
'are not permitted to hesitate. Biting a lip, hard. And while you do lie close to the edge of the bed and show ass'
'You really think that my hesitation is?' incisive her.
While the powerfully biting lip, pull your hands on your hips, gathers the ends of the dress, lifting it up, red lace draws the eye like a flash film, the contrast with the black cloth and the pallor of the flesh , it brings out the work, would be almost another fire call, directing it from the womb to the brain and vice versa, while her breasts dangling over those unusual sheets, which can now confirm that roughness.
'Stay well, do not move. Not saying a word. '
The light seems to see a move before his eyes blindfolded, perhaps a candle flame, yes, light a candle, he feels the heat, close the eyes, mouth, neck, spacing out the breath of him, very close, pressing, hot. The nostrils to dig your hands to draw. Without ever even touch.
Blind.
'How has it been? It hurts the neck '
Blind.
time is lost in the echo of the shadows, in silence, violent, marked immobility.
E 'likely within an hour or all night, all seems limitless, a ritual that challenges its own dogma, becoming. informal basis.
Questions flood the brain, chest to make it answers, while the mouth and begin to knead all'arsura fatigue, body weakness to that the position requires, and the mind intoxication of the moment, the sheets of slimy saliva to fall in drops from exhaustion.
'It's been three hours. You did not move. You've been good '
She feels new approach, with a finger to collect a drop of saliva that impregnating the cloth, wipe the lip, deforming the mouth, bringing it in, forcing the passage, making space with insistence.
Then, lifting his chin with the other hand, nailing a tear about the same with his.
'We will rest a little tray in the space that surround your hands. You should not even move. Will be able to reciprocate, if forces you allow.
But now I want you to hit the lip again, same place as before. Foul '.
She does not ask. Runs. Anticipating when it will make favors.
lip bleeds.
'Well, now I want you down with his mouth and go to touch the surface of the tray'
There is a kind of complicity, gestures, in silence, in solicitations.
Without having to prove that neither of them of being weak shots to concentrate on the weaknesses of others.
Without any obvious sequence foreshadows.
She is preparing to lower his head and synchronic lips to rest on the tray, hand him a memorandum, holding it ... stiffness. The reaction of the wound on the lip, with salt, is devastating. Your hands are shaking a fist, elbow resembling hemp, throat swallowing nails. But it is only a first step.
With the other hand he lowers her thong, inserting three fingers at that moment in sex, starting to move without pleasantries.
Her body reacts with a jolt, while that little drops of sweat on his back scatter paths.
'Burn salt, baby? Burn more salt on the mouth or my fingers in your pussy? '
' Or, this pat ... 'continues the other hand by the hair to the cheek.
Meanwhile, the position starts to become a nightmare, stretched on the edge of a razor, tremble, but does not lower the ass. Poised between primary greed.
E 'fertile ground, they agree? I am simply impregnating. Laying the seeds. Fertilization. So that they can grow.
I'm sipping the flavors or taking them, all at once. Who cares? If I run the instinct and let him settle. Now I know that I like to feel that way.
Stanca. Exhausted. Full.
they want to fill the position even while your mouth makes your slavery and freedom. Now that I smelled
micromillimeter your curiosity, aided by the silence, and not liabilities, now that will be able to recover from this small sample. Now imagine that your eye. and enjoy.
Now I want to break through the brain. Leave you trust.
's just a first step.
three minutes.
only three minutes.
Not to overlook details.
again three minutes. To watch
e. Two more minutes ...
To be able to tell.
**************************************
(" Three minutes just three minutes to talk to me
Three minutes just three minutes to convince you to trust me
I have two more minutes but two minutes
do not waste due to never lie to you ")
Negramaro
Dress For Bronze Shoes
Onda
support on your ass seat tired of a swing. God knows I've wanted to push myself, maybe I do I do first some 'swing and then swing insistently, who knows that even the air Stun eventually cut my throat. And understand that should not stop me how to breathe. Fucking air. Fucking mouth that breathes.
With this mouth now that arched his head back worse than a child curious about the empty, we play. Game to take more than I can, until my cheeks swell so much to come out in a clown faces in abstinence colors. What kind of shape does the void? And what flavor? Passes a man, invisible, m'imbocca. Air balls. Again. I'm not lazy but which are in the race to the sky and he knows ... fly.
With his cursed blade, slashing wings alchemy.
And it's as if I roll in bed, trying to find the position, but I'm still swing and he pushes me again. And I push again.
I let fly. I let myself.
And, while you put in shiny purple clouds, uploading their best gun, a bullet only, and just forward, lead magic all together, to swallow pale.
I asked for a one-way ticket on this trip-swing, maybe coming across the world. 'I love the freedom to feel that everything inside. That magical feeling that anything can happen suddenly '.
still waving in the air and metal, microattimo a look in the eyes of the invisible man, as I see them, we would have to ask ...
Rather than see them say that. Them 'feel'.
And now I wish I had nails like claws and tore off the wrapper of me. Swallow liters euphoria and find myself, instinctively, before you.
As soon as I say to the king of blue to eliminate the traffic lights.
('And I'd like a front end that freedom. A deadly crash that desecrates the sacred of his power. Why be alone in this carnal soul possess').
support on your ass seat tired of a swing. God knows I've wanted to push myself, maybe I do I do first some 'swing and then swing insistently, who knows that even the air Stun eventually cut my throat. And understand that should not stop me how to breathe. Fucking air. Fucking mouth that breathes.
With this mouth now that arched his head back worse than a child curious about the empty, we play. Game to take more than I can, until my cheeks swell so much to come out in a clown faces in abstinence colors. What kind of shape does the void? And what flavor? Passes a man, invisible, m'imbocca. Air balls. Again. I'm not lazy but which are in the race to the sky and he knows ... fly.
With his cursed blade, slashing wings alchemy.
And it's as if I roll in bed, trying to find the position, but I'm still swing and he pushes me again. And I push again.
I let fly. I let myself.
And, while you put in shiny purple clouds, uploading their best gun, a bullet only, and just forward, lead magic all together, to swallow pale.
I asked for a one-way ticket on this trip-swing, maybe coming across the world. 'I love the freedom to feel that everything inside. That magical feeling that anything can happen suddenly '.
still waving in the air and metal, microattimo a look in the eyes of the invisible man, as I see them, we would have to ask ...
Rather than see them say that. Them 'feel'.
And now I wish I had nails like claws and tore off the wrapper of me. Swallow liters euphoria and find myself, instinctively, before you.
As soon as I say to the king of blue to eliminate the traffic lights.
('And I'd like a front end that freedom. A deadly crash that desecrates the sacred of his power. Why be alone in this carnal soul possess').
Can You Use Anbesol While Pregnant?
Knut
Night parturient lit at night undone seductive villainous accomplice of a black vortex Ballam him without giving me an ancient truce home of the vocal cords lost in the wind tunnel breath greedy heart of a blue rose with thorns that scratched my forehead that I have no fear that the meat without a traffic jam of red blood
violent indecent thoughts are lost in the raw here on my Hair is here to swallow them one by one to fill my mouth for not more than one word if not groans of ecstasy to impregnate a pearl of steel on the language that confuses me the hormones they chew them shoot over the limit on a white wall quartz. Orgasm clear liquid that takes shape and size of meat that enters stabs expands making love with my brain rape angry hungry greedy charm the very first sunrise I long before your mouth remain open because it is too dry because it is too wet. Animal desires directing the vagina to absorb the mind losing consciousness I'm in the depths of my cracks sniff cibandomi limbo for eternity because I'm fine if you only overflow if I try to turn around and crashed into thick neck because the eternal is also a moment kissed sodomized dazed confused because it is salt on open wound. feels. that. is. alive. Romantic
violence and a moon that becomes queen of the night to dazzle a shrewd eclipse lowered eyelids relax the body and offered up a tray of silver powder bollente.non.mi.accontento contrast of a red wax. I'm here. Still here. hushed a room full of echoes that devours my purple nail polish back the hand nailing this crazy journey wrists entries become. A. Hot. Biting. I want it I want to live in the flesh m'istiga head shakes my gola.non.mi.accontento.vorrei drink even more than that of white over that red is more than just a drop a drop you slipped under the skin under the tongue red cannibal
injected inside I simply decided that now is because I'm not going to crush right now.
Now that I have a sip of air. Hot breath to tell you.
Night parturient lit at night undone seductive villainous accomplice of a black vortex Ballam him without giving me an ancient truce home of the vocal cords lost in the wind tunnel breath greedy heart of a blue rose with thorns that scratched my forehead that I have no fear that the meat without a traffic jam of red blood
violent indecent thoughts are lost in the raw here on my Hair is here to swallow them one by one to fill my mouth for not more than one word if not groans of ecstasy to impregnate a pearl of steel on the language that confuses me the hormones they chew them shoot over the limit on a white wall quartz. Orgasm clear liquid that takes shape and size of meat that enters stabs expands making love with my brain rape angry hungry greedy charm the very first sunrise I long before your mouth remain open because it is too dry because it is too wet. Animal desires directing the vagina to absorb the mind losing consciousness I'm in the depths of my cracks sniff cibandomi limbo for eternity because I'm fine if you only overflow if I try to turn around and crashed into thick neck because the eternal is also a moment kissed sodomized dazed confused because it is salt on open wound. feels. that. is. alive. Romantic
violence and a moon that becomes queen of the night to dazzle a shrewd eclipse lowered eyelids relax the body and offered up a tray of silver powder bollente.non.mi.accontento contrast of a red wax. I'm here. Still here. hushed a room full of echoes that devours my purple nail polish back the hand nailing this crazy journey wrists entries become. A. Hot. Biting. I want it I want to live in the flesh m'istiga head shakes my gola.non.mi.accontento.vorrei drink even more than that of white over that red is more than just a drop a drop you slipped under the skin under the tongue red cannibal
injected inside I simply decided that now is because I'm not going to crush right now.
Now that I have a sip of air. Hot breath to tell you.
Broken Capillaries Stomach Pregnant
Twilight Solidao
'Sometimes the sadness does not taste of sadness, a feeling that can feed on hope, vivid sensations of color, that warm the heart wide open unexpected horizons'
******************************************* **
Lorenzo left the bar smelling of coffee.
barely had time to cross the road a dog barked, he asked an old man begging a girl smiled at him and giving him a viola. His
quickly capsized. Become soft in his footsteps.
There are no roads at times so confusing the linear view, but other impervious damn sharp. Simply roads. In * freedom * of their being.
sounds, amplified, grumpy, to muffle noise even open spaces, Lorenzo touched a leaf with his hand and smiled, vulnerable and eager to too much light.
I wonder if he ever imagined that one day all would have stopped to smell the asphalt, the time to realize that, in some fragments of life, it stops all right and that something tighten in his hands can be a wonderful time and the same cruel. He shook the pain and joy at that moment of not amnesia. Angela
that day he decided not to go to work. Much easier said than done but, sometimes, instinct, power of attorney keys doors bizarre.
due notice, the importance of consequences in each case, heaved a sigh of relief just lowered the telephone receiver. He slipped running
a T-shirt and jeans, a trace of makeup and the Walkman in the pocket, he pulled the door behind him, becoming thrill. Nicola
passing the newsstand, bought a magazine, going after the small bar near my house for breakfast.
'Hello Beppe, throws like today?'
'Hey baby, finally the sun will do the trick! The usual, baby? '
'Yes, but without haste, now I enjoy it and go easy with the heavy foam that takes me drunk'
's funny how sometimes the same frequencies to slow down or you schiantino bodied knowledge, different only by place of occurrence.
Angela buried his face into the cup multicolored and when a drop of hot milk to the scratched his nose, smiled at the boy who stood before him, dipped his hands and mouth in a chocolate croissant, aware of the face drawn on her face, while the mother of stunning rebukes. They looked
accomplices, as in a game of their own, pulling the plug for a moment of sound, becoming silent, full enjoyment without conditions. Angela
winked at him and the child waved a sign of complacency and, wiping his nose in the cuff of the shirt between her cheeks and squeeze out chocolate fabric.
good day starts in the morning, so she thought, tapping your feet to the rhythm of music.
'Hello Beppe, tomorrow. Take care, you're good ... '
' Angels, you know that I have eyes only for you! '
Angela went out, lit by an animated smile.
The morning was warm and photographed daily, turned in his moist with the hustle and bustle, all seemed to have need to make, monsters in tachycardia,'s crazy robot short. Yet everything had its charm, perhaps when you are ready to enjoy the day everything looks different, or simply in a better light. Meanwhile Lorenzo
shortened distances, discussing the phone.
'But no, I told you, is not a problem and I have done, I have no particular commitments tomorrow, I just decided to delay, that's all. An unexpected can happen to anyone, now I feel I am to break the balls to fucking appointment, then, that, not even stand it. And I do not care if it knows that fruit, if I want to do if you promised heaven and earth ... Today there are none, communicate it to Erica, tell her that I move the appointments. Hello '
Intent each in their anxiety not standing there with the identical fragment of the road, slammed into each other.
fell from the hand of Lorenzo the phone and the Walkman line of Angela caught on the button of his jacket, removing the headset from one ear. It also tore the button.
'Oh sorry, I was distracted, wait, wait ... so you break it, do not pull the button, wait! '
'Hell, but you're still snoring or something?! To think that the road is wide ... Yes, yes, observant, so I break it, but you see ...! '
The wire is extricated and Lorenzo bent to pick up the phone.
'What do you listen?'
'Evora'
'I love Miss Morna ... Congratulations, good taste'
'Mmm ... you really like? The fact is that this morning I decided to skip school and travel a bit 'to the island of Cape Verde ..'
'Hehe, yeah, not a bad goal, too, this morning I twisted paths I could take you ... I am fascinated by the sensuality and passion of the 'African fado' ...
You too languid and melancholy? The contagion of sad beauty in place ocean ... '
' Mavala! Rather ... I'm beautiful accent that thou hast. I'm going to the park, if you ask me to sew the button I'll accompany me '
' Oh, nice of you, miss, but the fact is that today are taking place a series of random odd and you, willingly or unwillingly, you could not stop me anyway '
fixed. Reciprocating
fate in the background. Without moving
sniff. Stopping the moment as a criminal s'inchioda with satisfaction to the wall. Or as in saliva throat for half a mouthful too far.
There was a smell of the air caress. There was a breeze to move intent on Angela's hair, slightly, and his shirt a bit 'fluffy, a bit' detached.
She handed him one of the ear, he turned off the phone to the ear and food that twilight.
A love story can also be born that way. Among those who lose their glow and breathe taking density, while the coincidence of time weaving improvisation and movement of a hand can reveal cent.
Lorenzo Angela brushed her hair, as a gesture of unconditional love. Instinctively, he kissed her, capturing awe and reflection. They like being sucked by a hungry nervous and relaxed. Them as unprepared. To exchange pieces of the puzzle in a March morning.
"The beginning of a passion for music has in itself" was how Angela
struck by lightning which nullified all about not letting him.
was so with Lorenzo found herself with her hands in her hair, horns and emotion to shake.
began to listen to and sharing an intimacy made by an unknown spell, he hoped to lull the world.
Speaking accompanied the end of the day. Imperceptible on the border of the lawn and words.
Smell of clothing impregnated with them.
kissed again, without asking questions. Imperceptible waves dancing to the tune of the lips and eyes. In a strange moment that unites pallor. As the evening stuck between veins reddish thickening.
"In the green, creating a bizarre vision hoped"
also turns off the Walkman, no music except that of their breaths. Smell of grass in his mouth and that taste hot.
would not make sense exaggerated words in recounting the minutiae of how you get to skip every stage of courtship and how to elude savoir-faire, a love story also travels up lists of alchemical, expanded or restricted in the moment that the distinctive, full of a feeling that a few explanations and many ways.
Naked Lunch offered on the ports that will contain it.
Lorenzo approached her lips to his neck shook hands at that time. It clamps meat and currents, leaving the teeth outline veins. Angela is not back, stamped in a corner of the sky not distracted his head, defying the darkness as the only witness to the path generated from those lips. Going intersect mouths. They made love in the sunset and late to finish. They shared tremors and eye wide open, ready to caress the eyes, each other, stretched over sharp irises. Curvy and soft. Apparent sharp decline in amnesia.
'Where You jump out'
'Not that which has no memory. I could get the same question '.
again changed color the air. It was found
in a brown voracious announced that sunset that would not die.
Give the light of day to night was equal to that incoming breath caught in my throat.
up her smile in multiple holding out a hand and he made valuable incite.
She kissed him and he knew he kisses.
She kissed him. In a sharp tick sunset. There was an accomplice charges
moons, ready to share if he had wanted.
'Sometimes the sadness does not taste of sadness, a feeling that can feed on hope, vivid sensations of color, that warm the heart wide open unexpected horizons'
******************************************* **
Lorenzo left the bar smelling of coffee.
barely had time to cross the road a dog barked, he asked an old man begging a girl smiled at him and giving him a viola. His
quickly capsized. Become soft in his footsteps.
There are no roads at times so confusing the linear view, but other impervious damn sharp. Simply roads. In * freedom * of their being.
sounds, amplified, grumpy, to muffle noise even open spaces, Lorenzo touched a leaf with his hand and smiled, vulnerable and eager to too much light.
I wonder if he ever imagined that one day all would have stopped to smell the asphalt, the time to realize that, in some fragments of life, it stops all right and that something tighten in his hands can be a wonderful time and the same cruel. He shook the pain and joy at that moment of not amnesia. Angela
that day he decided not to go to work. Much easier said than done but, sometimes, instinct, power of attorney keys doors bizarre.
due notice, the importance of consequences in each case, heaved a sigh of relief just lowered the telephone receiver. He slipped running
a T-shirt and jeans, a trace of makeup and the Walkman in the pocket, he pulled the door behind him, becoming thrill. Nicola
passing the newsstand, bought a magazine, going after the small bar near my house for breakfast.
'Hello Beppe, throws like today?'
'Hey baby, finally the sun will do the trick! The usual, baby? '
'Yes, but without haste, now I enjoy it and go easy with the heavy foam that takes me drunk'
's funny how sometimes the same frequencies to slow down or you schiantino bodied knowledge, different only by place of occurrence.
Angela buried his face into the cup multicolored and when a drop of hot milk to the scratched his nose, smiled at the boy who stood before him, dipped his hands and mouth in a chocolate croissant, aware of the face drawn on her face, while the mother of stunning rebukes. They looked
accomplices, as in a game of their own, pulling the plug for a moment of sound, becoming silent, full enjoyment without conditions. Angela
winked at him and the child waved a sign of complacency and, wiping his nose in the cuff of the shirt between her cheeks and squeeze out chocolate fabric.
good day starts in the morning, so she thought, tapping your feet to the rhythm of music.
'Hello Beppe, tomorrow. Take care, you're good ... '
' Angels, you know that I have eyes only for you! '
Angela went out, lit by an animated smile.
The morning was warm and photographed daily, turned in his moist with the hustle and bustle, all seemed to have need to make, monsters in tachycardia,'s crazy robot short. Yet everything had its charm, perhaps when you are ready to enjoy the day everything looks different, or simply in a better light. Meanwhile Lorenzo
shortened distances, discussing the phone.
'But no, I told you, is not a problem and I have done, I have no particular commitments tomorrow, I just decided to delay, that's all. An unexpected can happen to anyone, now I feel I am to break the balls to fucking appointment, then, that, not even stand it. And I do not care if it knows that fruit, if I want to do if you promised heaven and earth ... Today there are none, communicate it to Erica, tell her that I move the appointments. Hello '
Intent each in their anxiety not standing there with the identical fragment of the road, slammed into each other.
fell from the hand of Lorenzo the phone and the Walkman line of Angela caught on the button of his jacket, removing the headset from one ear. It also tore the button.
'Oh sorry, I was distracted, wait, wait ... so you break it, do not pull the button, wait! '
'Hell, but you're still snoring or something?! To think that the road is wide ... Yes, yes, observant, so I break it, but you see ...! '
The wire is extricated and Lorenzo bent to pick up the phone.
'What do you listen?'
'Evora'
'I love Miss Morna ... Congratulations, good taste'
'Mmm ... you really like? The fact is that this morning I decided to skip school and travel a bit 'to the island of Cape Verde ..'
'Hehe, yeah, not a bad goal, too, this morning I twisted paths I could take you ... I am fascinated by the sensuality and passion of the 'African fado' ...
You too languid and melancholy? The contagion of sad beauty in place ocean ... '
' Mavala! Rather ... I'm beautiful accent that thou hast. I'm going to the park, if you ask me to sew the button I'll accompany me '
' Oh, nice of you, miss, but the fact is that today are taking place a series of random odd and you, willingly or unwillingly, you could not stop me anyway '
fixed. Reciprocating
fate in the background. Without moving
sniff. Stopping the moment as a criminal s'inchioda with satisfaction to the wall. Or as in saliva throat for half a mouthful too far.
There was a smell of the air caress. There was a breeze to move intent on Angela's hair, slightly, and his shirt a bit 'fluffy, a bit' detached.
She handed him one of the ear, he turned off the phone to the ear and food that twilight.
A love story can also be born that way. Among those who lose their glow and breathe taking density, while the coincidence of time weaving improvisation and movement of a hand can reveal cent.
Lorenzo Angela brushed her hair, as a gesture of unconditional love. Instinctively, he kissed her, capturing awe and reflection. They like being sucked by a hungry nervous and relaxed. Them as unprepared. To exchange pieces of the puzzle in a March morning.
"The beginning of a passion for music has in itself" was how Angela
struck by lightning which nullified all about not letting him.
was so with Lorenzo found herself with her hands in her hair, horns and emotion to shake.
began to listen to and sharing an intimacy made by an unknown spell, he hoped to lull the world.
Speaking accompanied the end of the day. Imperceptible on the border of the lawn and words.
Smell of clothing impregnated with them.
kissed again, without asking questions. Imperceptible waves dancing to the tune of the lips and eyes. In a strange moment that unites pallor. As the evening stuck between veins reddish thickening.
"In the green, creating a bizarre vision hoped"
also turns off the Walkman, no music except that of their breaths. Smell of grass in his mouth and that taste hot.
would not make sense exaggerated words in recounting the minutiae of how you get to skip every stage of courtship and how to elude savoir-faire, a love story also travels up lists of alchemical, expanded or restricted in the moment that the distinctive, full of a feeling that a few explanations and many ways.
Naked Lunch offered on the ports that will contain it.
Lorenzo approached her lips to his neck shook hands at that time. It clamps meat and currents, leaving the teeth outline veins. Angela is not back, stamped in a corner of the sky not distracted his head, defying the darkness as the only witness to the path generated from those lips. Going intersect mouths. They made love in the sunset and late to finish. They shared tremors and eye wide open, ready to caress the eyes, each other, stretched over sharp irises. Curvy and soft. Apparent sharp decline in amnesia.
'Where You jump out'
'Not that which has no memory. I could get the same question '.
again changed color the air. It was found
in a brown voracious announced that sunset that would not die.
Give the light of day to night was equal to that incoming breath caught in my throat.
up her smile in multiple holding out a hand and he made valuable incite.
She kissed him and he knew he kisses.
She kissed him. In a sharp tick sunset. There was an accomplice charges
moons, ready to share if he had wanted.
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