Love<\/p>\n
I like to feel the weight of your arm and your breath on my never,
\nis the desired weight.
\nThere's a book on the table that you never finish reading and another in my bag that I haven't finished yet.
\nI opened it in the morning but got distracted looking at you.
\nThere was a distorted mirror and I saw the book hanging from my hand.
\nSilence was an impasse between your deep breathing.
\nI turned the page and saw your mouth ajar.
\nYour messy face and my symmetrical thinking.
\nThere was a treasure trove of coins under the bed.
\nI closed the book and lay down next to you.
\nI wanted you to see me as I see you.
\nIn the calm of your sleep on my side of the bed.<\/p>\n
Now there is an empty room and a forgotten book.
\nIt is a memory that disappears after five minutes.<\/p>\n
Disgust<\/p>\n
What a fool I am for missing you, every time something happens, when you don't notice anything but what you have at your fingertips, your dick, which commands and orders how you see the world: in your, for me, biased reality, in your, for me, empty segments that you occupy with the one that arrives or maybe with food, it depends on the day and the reach of that hand, it depends on your three palms of courage, on what you have drunk, on your elementary, primary needs, those that you cover without thinking about anyone or anything and that are articulated forming an axis on which you turn all the time, repeating the path. Go away at once and leave me (I know I am the one who has to leave) I am tired of this halo of sadness that I cause me every five seconds with an exact distance and a temporality devoid of any kind of opportunities.<\/p>\n