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Los poetas que no fueron escriben en prosa. Compra el libro en Thule Ediciones. Martes, 25 de junio de 2013. Si los poetas que no fueron fueran poetas, escribirían esto. No es un adiós, es un hasta Tumblr. Ahora estamos en La vida es un camino, cómete la fresa. Un blog donde compartimos espacio con el posCallejero.
Death comes to all, but great achievements build a monument which shall endure until the sun grows cold. All roads lead to the end and the end is where you started.
Posted by Cle under Other world! Cold, steel-blue lights hum and flicker, flicker and hum. Shadows shudder jump across walls. Phantom movement twitches, pulses out of sight. Eyes flicker, nervous, strain to catch what is, where is. Wanting to see and unsee. Trickle, prickle, cold sweat creep. Pupils, dark, dilate. Heart bump, thump, pumps. Loud blood crash rushes in my ribcage. Frozen terror, blind and deaf.
By the window I stood, this rain drops, babbling,. Asking to let her in, as white cloud. Out there, blue, dark overtone,. Sun sitting there with bright smile an its face,. They all seem to playing the game together,.
I was well overdue a Little Pea and Me day.