Soccer Players Under The Shower

come and go cruel events in my life, and I always end up making me more harm me, or are drugs, or are cuts, or better yet a rope around his neck. I have come to threaten my life and perhaps to blame me for being a coward and not reveal to the cursed life I lead. So much hard to be happy?, "Both costs smile?, How long I do not see a smile on my mirror? Not reflect happiness, only pain and sorrow, and I often undermines my own thoughts. I believe that if there is a tomorrow, there is a reason to live, 4 winds scream I can be happy, but everything turns dark.

For many I am a black and white photography, which is already past, I remember that I gave the best moments of my life for them, and it's so sad to see how they forget one.
Maybe my eyes can be a true reflection of my sorrow when they fall the tears of disappointment, just looking for refuge in happiness so elusive for me.
If only I were put to think life is a game, is the continuation of bloody events that only the brave are able to cope.

(...) I hope to be brave

Shoes With Slim Jeans Men

I do not mind the absence of your melancholy. Now my branches grow into a stronger light and warm, away from such filth and hypocrisy, now there is only love and peace, love ... that force as desired.

your movies in my head and lack of movement and negative return and not disclose, I do not care because it not worthwhile, your melody and not follow my compass and I'm happy because I finally I see so clear I break the loop without shedding any tears.

So I get up and now I am leaving you, holding your head high among the crowd of your words empty of truth, follow with your games and dreams ... that will come the day that you touch land on your own shoulder. Until then Reid under your drunkenness, the costume that you feel better.

This put an end to the false hope and illusion disappointed for not weighted in the feet follow my path as always, now after a big sigh of freedom and restlessness.

How Long Pinguecula Go Away

touch your mouth with a finger touch the edge of your mouth, I draw as if out of my hand as if for the first time your mouth opened a little, and I just close my eyes to undo it and restart, every time I can I want to mouth, mouth to my hand chooses and sketches on the face, a mouth chosen from all, with sovereign freedom of choice for me to draw with my hand on your face, and a random seek not to understand exactly matches your mouth that smiles beneath my hand that you draw.

look at me, at me closely, more closely and then we play the Cyclops, we looked increasingly close and our eyes get bigger, move closer together , overlap and the cyclops look, breathing confusion, their mouths are and struggle in gentle warmth, biting with their lips, barely holding their tongues on their teeth, playing in corners where a heavy air comes and goes with an old perfume and a silence. Then my hands go hide in your hair, slowly stroke the depth of your hair while we kiss as if our mouths were full of flowers or fish, with lively movements and dark fragrance. And if we bite the pain is sweet, and if we drown in a brief and terrible surge of breath, that instant death is beautiful. And there is one hard and one flavor of ripe fruit, and I feel you tremble against me like a moon on the water.