There are few nights when I stop to think, both those in which it floats. Before falling asleep I carry around the memory of a day and I welcome the steps, so far, projects in progress. With this momentum I crouched down on the pillow and pass the baton to the night master and mistress. In a dream I eat lobster next to my beloved. I'm going to tell you, break through the inertia, giving up a spell. I hold my breath and birth, sent like a fish in a river of fresh water, quiet as a cat who betrays the day. The story of my love to the particles of my status as a dreamer, a candle winks, excessive for her. The breath, curled up in a thin hope, stands lively after the first words. And the thoughts in a row and bun, you have medicated my nod to side. I speak, roaring with emphasis, that what happens is a gentle unfolding of rage, which is an all or nothing, that I am walking without her ruddy raids place names, and the nights are incestuous jokes with the time when her velvety skin does not breathe on the sheets. I explain that time and the sages had predicted. A walking stick next to a fire that illuminates a white-bearded ruminant. I would like to tighten it, snakes are intertwined, and take it to my own pace, in an ivory tower. Love her and tell her that peace exists in the world. Exiles obliterate all the other poor deluded. I would recite Shakespeare and kidnapped her. I speak, I speak. Life is an origami, which is in heaven. True happiness is to know well enough to hold faithfully in his footsteps. Hello
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