An std

Romantic love always moves upwards from between your legs to your stomach, heart and head.

truth before a certain period

There comes a time when every heartbreak, disappointment or wrong turn in life accumulates into a dark mass that is more solid and profound than anything else. Anything good and warm and even ultimately positive that came out of all of that just seems ike the product of your super-human desire to survive. At that time, you might be blessed enough for someone ignorant and free to offer their love and the only thing you can think of is “for the love of god, your retarded god and my black-hole god, stay away from me, save yourself and save anything pretty we might have shared”. That time usually comes every month a couple of days before my period. And yet my cry is truth: “God why did you have to make me a primitive hopeless animal programmed for reproduction and death?”

defeated winners

Shocked, always shocked by the sweeteness

days and monts fighting to breathe in thick dusty air

assholes everywhere, a sea of assholes driving cars

a slow brave transformation into an untouchable bitch

a cold calculator of every decimal digit of any possible significance

and literally out of nowhere

shaking with the daunting improbability of a divine plan

at exactly the wrong and right moment

compassionate eyes that fall directly on you

humbling you to the point at which you may disappear and loose yourself

at the crossroads I wonder if I’m eaching more for the lost bitch or the lost time

only defeated can I ever win