As I said on that day, nothing new, everything is a matter of perspective. I prefer to stay seated on a bed with a quilted cover the mess of the sheets and thousands of things lost in the middle, with a lollipop, with well-known thoughts, out there, and here.
As I said, but I retract, I underestimated. Some thoughts, I said to write about love (...)
I forgot ...
; that en mí, solo una representations scales grises.
Soy yo, con mis disorder, y mis canciones Saturday depresivas y sufficiently so seductive.
much to me ... nothing is everything to me not enough
I want every gesture, every word ... every second of your attention on what is right
in love, who is to say what talk? silence? want?
ah, today I attacked a squirrel.
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