Eagerly wanting to
say, but physically being unable to.
My arms are like
paddles that row against the current of words, and my head is stuffed with
nothings.
I feel spoiled and
clogged up, numb and fried and roasted.
Text in the
making.
El dolor se estampa cual meteoro y me arranca un cráter. Analizo el espacio yermo, y examino el escozor como una turista lunar. Si sabes por qué te duele, sabrás cómo gozar de nuevo.
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