...

I don't want a silver leash. I don't want a a cheap playact. I don't want to see a fallen leaf from my ken. I don't want to hear a soundless slap. & it feels like hell. Like a Xmas song... like a winter season. Like the blue wind leaving my core. It pass just like the smell of wrath. Like sulphur... like silver.
So clear.
So wicked.
So not.

Y no quiero palabras leídas por exégesis. No quiero, no quiero... no quiero.
pero no puedo más que eso, esto y yo.



[ Grief is carried in grams... ]