Complejos: La incapacidad de aceptar la soledad como una condición irremediable nos obliga a actuar de maneras incongruentes.
We run on contrary directions, but converge in the same fish bowl
(running over the same old ground, what have we found?).
The poor light that the moon sheds on the lamest night of the month; the loneliness that will never fade; and a random fool , who covers it all up
with lame kisses
and poor touch.
This all reminds me of you
As always
I stumble and crash against those days…
Explode?
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