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Skin ...

No one is free. We are prisoners of ourselves. Otherwise the world would be chaotically beautiful.

We are the only species that entice and seduce dress to undress.

But everything has its limit.

We can not go beyond our skin. So please let us cherish the exact border of our being.

is there in the beginning our sensitive skin. When we are naked we are exposed. But expose well, depends on trust, privacy.

The skin speaks to us, tells a personal story, tells us about our origins, our ancestors spent many a sometimes unknown.

other skin on the promises made sweeter. On our skin is expressed oaths we never forget.

We traveled the skin of the beloved, hoping to find the detail that will make unique. Poets have passed our skin that allowed themselves to meet with his eyes closed. As secular artists, we have drawn full havens in ebony leather, on pale skin, fur-daughters of the sun.

eye not only made the first contact the primary contact. The soothing touch, the contact that soothes and fills us with pleasure comes through of our skin.

There is nothing more intimate than our skin, nothing more evident as our skin.

One morning in September, full of light and quiet, I discovered a new skin with my eyes was the same one that was hiding in the shadows last night. It was the only perfect skin I knew before. Had the right texture, the warmth you need, the fresh and light scent of early spring.

In this skin I could move from the erotic pleasure, I imagine my desires and succumb to them.

There is no better time reversed the move all that skin with my skin. Feel involved and wrap, making it a feeling. Feel covered and covered.

that morning walked the valleys proud of that body, that skin only, which is and will be the most beautiful memories with me forever.

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Death - Pablo Neruda

dies.

He or she who becomes the slave
of habit repeating every day the same
itineraries, who does not change brand, does not risk wearing
a new color and does not speak to who do not know.

Dies slowly he who makes of television his
guru.

she who shuns passion, who
prefers black on white and points on
the "i" to a whirlpool of emotions, just the
that recover the gleam of the eyes, smiles
yawns, hearts from the stumbling and feelings.

He or she who does not overthrow the table when
is unhappy at work, who does not risk certainty
by uncertain to go after a dream, who is not
allows at least once in life, to flee from
sensible advice.

slowly he who dies, who does not read,
who does not listen to music, who does not laugh at themselves
same .

He who slowly destroys his esteem,
who did not even try.

Dies slowly he who passes his days complaining
of his bad luck or the incessant rain.

Dies slowly he who abandons a project
before starting it, not asking a question that
unknown or not responding when they are asked about
something he knows.

prevent death in small doses, reminding
always be alive demands an effort much more
the simple fact breathing.
Only a burning patience will
attainment of a splendid happiness.

Kirkland Signatures Fruit & Nut Medley

ABYSS

If there is someone walking around carrying his backpack full of ghosts, sure make a stop next to me in the middle of the road.

People wanting to hide his sadness goes without success. Wanting to cover their scars with makeup and dark dyes.

But beyond the existence of unique characters in a city as crazy as this, I wonder what I do for my mental radiator is full of bugs.

A track gave me a person, actually a little person, I stared for long minutes while traveling in the same group. It was a beautiful creature but his eyes looked so empty as a blind eye. All she was a vacuum absorbing light around her.

It would, in his seat looking forward. But then, since he discovered his cold eyes as mine, our eyes were welded. I felt the constant feeling that I wanted to talk. Say something. Tell me something. Shouting, maybe. So we traveled for several minutes, many think.

Little wore clothes definitely big for his size, loose hair and dark, almost black, fell heavy on his shoulders. We were still with her eyes as the vehicle arriving at the station emptied. I sat in front of it and dedicate ourselves to recognize. The girl did not seem scared, not even worried about my insistent gaze. In fact in his eyes detected something curious. The landscape changed, now the green gardens of the south coast dominated the environment. I think by this time had lost my way. She. The small began to look around like looking for something in particular. He rose from his seat and pressed the button to call the next stop. This time her eyes were full of tears. I watched from an incredible distance without speaking. I could not with my temper and went down along with it.

So reach me these beings who populate the streets of this city, come to me through the eyes (this cursed habit I have of eye contact).

Solitary, mad, depressed, helpless mental, obsessive and melancholic characters are every day of my clothes are hung. Life exiles, orphans of dreams, happiness castrated, dry feeling, but infinitely human.

The small and I still find from time to time. Always in different places. Crossing streets and neighborhoods where nobody knows us. We talked about life, she without much enthusiasm, I could not contradict. She devoid of expectations, I pretending not affect me. Yesterday I asked how I would die.

Now when I detect a look of these, I shudder. Is that at some point the bearer of the look will stick to my heels. I know she'll talk, I can not avoid its attractive dark abyss. I know I'll fall into the trap. I know that although I hold in this world to compromise with these beings, the inevitable is to resist the rapture of the deep. There is a time when one does not look into the abyss, the abyss lives in one.

Surely, these beings, I have lunch in hell.

Tom's Pretty Good Solitaire

Upload a man of 1.45 meters on an elevator with him, up a HUGE black.

After a short silence, our little man seemed an eternity, we heard the booming voice of the black who said

2.15 mt. high,

125 pounds,

Penis: 33 cms. long, 10 cm in diameter,

Testicles: 220 grams each, which produce 1 / 2 L per event

Three free kick

bodybuilder

Cuban ..

Dante Huerta.

said all that reaches out in an attitude of greeting.

The man instantly, slumped unconscious.

Amazed black, takes in his arms and gives some slight slap to revive ...

When the man regains consciousness, Cuban asks

- What happened to you, boy?

The man, still staring at the black with terror painted on his face, he asks in a whisper:

Do I ... can ... repeat ... so ... what. that ... said ...??

Of course, my friend ....

2.15 mt. high,

125 pounds,

Penis: 33 cms. long, 10 cm in diameter,

Testicles: 220 grams each, which produce 1 / 2 liter per event

Three free kick

bodybuilder

Cuban ..

Dante Huerta.

UUUFFFfff ...!!!!!

What a relief !!!!! .......

had understood:

"Turn around."

Colorful Running Tights

She Dante Huerta (for you)

She loses her sights on the white wall,

And dream the dream of always,

She searches his pockets some emotion forgotten

She dances for not thinking.

She cries at night,

embraces memories,

She repeats her memory alone,

She searches for the word that could save it.

She does not want me to stay

For not know what to do with me,

She does not know, or will not understand that

She should do nothing.

She loses her sights on the white wall.

And sometimes,

She cries at night.

She searches for the word that could save it.

Invitation Card For Death Anniversary

June crackle Aute

Then came winter. And the crackling leaves on the ground.

I wonder what my destiny.

But I see no signal, or the sky or at the bottom of my pockets.

the streets horror shown in the opposite of luxury cars, the expensive clothes, clean smile of innocent girls.

curious that I have that lens sees what others fear to see. I have no optical zoom. Or digital. No need.

From your balcony is all green. Trees. The lawns cut. Tough men. Kids who want to be men.

Amidst all this we are sitting watching a quiet and lazy river.

Despite the winter, everything is still green. Green Hope?

Red blood, passion, anger ...

let me navigate the dark clear water of their lives just to tell me that I have no way out.

Living a lie, live a lie, knowing it's a lie.

I keep wondering about my destiny, but nobody knows anything. I do not believe in fate, is a lie.

Let facing the horizon, life goes on, goes even close our eyes.

is about to rain, let us, in the air is warmer.

Cervical Mucus Looks Like Snot

"What
outer space known .... what time it was or not yet ...
planets that rain has fallen here I am, preaching
that have come ?.
That though no question of asking permission,
by stepping on the same floor vertigo,
not targeted to a heart without
firing warning so suddenly and so precise ...
WHO ARE YOU?.
I assure you I do not want me
strong in any case I believe you panicked.
do not know if you are the harbinger of the fate
or otherwise come to give me death ...
but you will be rain or sleet water ...
how not to drink when you tell me baby?,
that thirst fades and is shorter
while
years pass and no rain.
WHO ARE YOU?

Whippets Long Term Effects

says it all for a dream ....

.... the dream starts when the cyber, I meet a young girl who obviously knew before I recognized it as a certain familiarity. We were fascinated by recognizing ourselves. Thin clad in tight jeans, she felt she wanted to get my attention. Her straight hair fell heavy on his back and his eyes were all-encompassing light. Suddenly we're not in the cyber but rather in a dark, where only your body and mine was lit by a bright light, white. In silence her small body and mine were tying, we enlazábamos like a dream, floating ethereal without spaces and timeless. We fit perfectly, her skin was smooth, soft, new. Her slim body with the key can only youth. His kisses were offered warm hiding a certain impatience. So we kept together until her body shuddered one last time. It ended and I was filled with pleasurable sensations, pouring in her the desire made nectar. So we stayed a time not too long. I felt lucky to have filled with new feelings of intense vertigo.

now walking through a maze of streets almost gothic but full of light, sun light of a pervasive, intense and warm. She went before me as anticipating what was to be done. No longer were their straight hair. Curly curls falling on his back, jeans were the same, her step more daring than before, his ease but that did not excite me. Little by little every corner that we asomábamos, after each curve drew whimsical street, appeared someone, always older people, and she always greets with a kiss on the cheek and say something to him. The major looked at me, some serious, some smiling, then after a repeat time and again this scene, I understood. At least I understood. The small ear telling them who I was. What we had done. In my head appeared clear picture of a gypsy clan in complicity with the girl I had been caught. Now that I had owned, now that she had given her virginity, I had no way out, belonged to them, they knew of my sins, I now require obedience. Suddenly we came to the center of what looked like a small square with pergolas laden with flowers, beneath them, they'd expected. Between them, in the center, the girl with the curls, huge family around her who smiled at me pleased.

Appropriate Congratulations

the morning ...

A beautiful morning, a full climate tolerable in February, biking, hitting fresh air in the face, the villages empty of Almagro, some stray dogs, the cobbled streets silent witnesses of many stories , paved with uneven cobblestones, asphalt patches, potholes, bicycles do not stop jumping, another bump, another blow to the front wheel, again seat hits me the ass, I'm standing on the pedals to maintain balance, climb the last village, came destiny, I stand and support my feet on solid ground. I go to pay the arrears of Edesur ballot, I hurt in my pocket, my legs hurt, I encourage you to go back to the bike, I ache all over, walking the 30 blocks back, am now warm, sticky .. .. Shit tomorrow! ...... I had stayed in bed .....

Marvel Birthday Party

South Blues (for you)

First there was the adventure of getting to that lonely pier, then encouraged to get into that canoe with few guarantees, life jackets, out of breath ....

Then we came to the island without a name to a berth that said encouragingly Welcome to The Flood ... music, heat (a lot), lousy food, mate, an occasional beer, and of course the mosquitoes, thousands, millions of them ...

and we did the night, the canoe did not come, the darkest dark river that sunlight, that very particular side by side that seemed to presage an inevitable dip ...

we get to this little harbor deserted, a light bar and order a bottle of cold water, waiting for the bus, more mosquitoes, and after an hour the road ...

at 22:30 the lights of civilization greeted us politely, I can tell, was a Sunday different long ago did a change of scenery .. je je

Then I'll tell you more ....

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Another final ...

desperate gestures stopped at sea on a falling star that completely ignores me.
A story that begins well, but does not end for lack of ideas.
Mate that cooled just as he helped with their luggage.
The wind that cut off the kite twine that I never finished assembly.

And now we close a project that did not end as we wanted.

Life is a journey to other worlds, near here, almost always the same street.

It was night, I better go to sleep.