In the eastern part, I have a wall of concrete, and in the south it is cold where will I will to remain with this crisis?
It has to be a mess that separates me being we comfortably married in legal marriage, but our love is so corroded, that looks like worn-out millstones.
Nevertheless at the moment of doing the love in the bed, I am almost always sure that some day the hard muscle I could manage to break to poor so sacrificed furniture.
Consequently I am imprisoned of the cruellest doubt, between the end or a new beginning, prefer, beginning with a stage of first being able to excuse bearing the happened in mind.
They were very hard, dark years, no fish that was two days out of the water and returned successfully then it returns to be the same. We are tired of this wretched life, probably none is guilty of anything but a correntada drags us to uncertain destination.
I am sure that it fails us to pay attention.


Speaking with the pillow.