March 24, 2014 § Leave a comment

What words described
the sentence that felt heavy
like a courtain shutting her eyes.
Buzzing through the pages
scrolling in the phrases that
recursively write themselves.

She holds her pen
and draws a seashore
in the margins of “Code Civil II”
imagining she wasn’t there
being judged by the jaws of hell.

The sands of time seems to friction
in the hourglass of laws.
All this days that look like each other
and this oxygen dense to breathe.

She writes in her book
“I need holidays”, and then she turns the page
No, these holidays won’t be still today.

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March 24, 2014 § Leave a comment

La belleza, es la efímera expresión de la genética. 

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