What Does Meningitis Feel Lke

Now where are you, woman? Jhhuuhhushiihh

Where are you woman?

The room burns

and erased the traces of your name.

where is wife, your cat trail

agile And your footsteps?

What should we keep extinct

to order from us or

sat down to watch the carnage? Today

woman

you expect more than ever,

And the wounds fainted in bed

Waiting or filled

a shower fever.

Where are you, woman, Escondida



O clock has been against me?

brains are burning me,

and my blood
dry mouth
With

I have thirst,

Ganas of your hair,

of your neck

And your curious fingers,

From your hips crazy

And your mouth rope

of your iris night

The tactic warm

And scared column

With the jungle wakes up.


you no longer seeking a woman,

wounds sleep in bed

And showers me
embittering
The corpus.

In the last unknown

second of the night

in sweat meat

silent Toco

Your dream.

Where are you?

The bedroom is burnt

And the footprints of your name are deleted

¿Where are, woman, your feline trails

And your agile steps?

Must we extinguish

Until the end of us or

Sit to gaze the hecatomb?

Today, woman,

I hope more than ever,

And the wounds faint on the bed

Waiting or quenching

With a febrile shower.

¿Where are you, woman,

Hidden

Or the clock plays against me?

My brain is burnt

And my blood is dried

With the mouth

I’m thirsty,

I want your hair

your neck

and your curious fingers,

I want your crazy hips

And your sensible mouth,

I want your nocturnal iris,

The warm tactic

And the scared spine

With the awake jungle.

I don’t look for you anymore,

woman,

The wounds sleep on the bed

And the showers make me sour

The corpus.

Alone

In the last nameless second of the night

In the sweat of the flesh

I touch in silence

Your dream.

Can You Buy Moccasins In

can hear remnants of a corrupt tree on the stony heights of the traces of drunk stabbed, panties the nun kissing Christ. I fly mortality, skin peeling seasonal ground for flies, the sources dried bone cracking the relentless chirping of the morning. I advance the footprints and the flowery fields in flames fleshy, carriages stop dying for a pint of wine, the butterflies crushed by small hands give their last farewell to one third of their antennae, stray dogs shake their ticks to ostentatious Mercedes Benz, grandmothers give a shout out to abandoned shipwrecks in their wombs, a girl runs barefoot on a burning field of sunflowers, a young escape to the sounds within a coastal seafood. The cliff is orange, and blue dreams, thoughts swirling, and orchestras shake the trees to the nerve curves of your spine. Sea foam lips shelters us and pursues us beat wave, wind the hair and shakes us throw our sorrows as waste to the peaks of the gulls. The abysmal vein of the leaves is the shelter where we dip our feet and where, from time to time, send messages bread crumbs into the boats and dream of destiny. Resting on the branch of a eucalyptus, a giraffe burn the heavens and we think the fury of the salmon, in the spiral bound to our necks in the shadow of an embrace in the pursuit of parchment dispersed between the grains of the beach , in pursuit of the index to the thumb, the tingling sound of the lashes in the rocks, waving pelicans striped breaking the dull sky sparkled with brief rain of feathers.