...and then I shut my eyes.

Dear enemy:

I feel that I can’t exist without you, I might hate you with all my heart but your still part of me, I’m proud when I beat you, and more of it because I did it, I don’t want anything or anyone else to bring you down, although I like to see you defeated, It feels so much better when I introduce my sword between your lungs, and you sing to me that melody of clemency for me to kill you and stop the torture. Well, for you, there’s never ending, you were made to suffer, and to be humiliated every time, with every sight and word. Please don’t die right now, because I need you, you are so evil and you don’t leave any kind of good on me, but I still need you. I can’t feel superior, I can’t fight, I can’t get forces against any… I just want you to exist. Let us have an eternal battle that would lead us into an eternal war were we would be destroying all of what we posses and love, our bodies won’t count anymore, who needs them? Those kinds of harms are weak, they don’t compare to the ones that are building and stored inside our souls; the ones that bring down at night, the ones that make you cry louder, when the tears burn, your fists are tightened harder, the teeth are pressed against each other and gives you submissive headaches, the ones that you can’t run away from, the ones that make company everywhere… everytime. There’s no medicine for them, no genetic cure, no steps ,no breaths; they got so buried inside, beneath every muscle, every bone, pores, hair follicles, skin chaps, and you start to love them, and wanting them… you would be nothing if you didn’t posses them, they are pure strength. I might sound terribly negative, but when you get to an extreme, it isn’t hard to twist all around, It’s so much that the heavy weight makes the balance spin upside down. Remember me when you are on your death hysteria, my arrogant ways and my dictator eyes, you’ll never find peace on them and hell yeah you will see them staring until the death of time, because what you can’t see on this world will follow in the next. You will never run away from me. I’ll never be sorry, the endless story. It’s my anger speaking. Because I lose a little bit of redemption every time that I listen your steps crossing the gothic hall.

Most of all, what makes you so perfect is that I can’t bring you down, and the truth about all this cataclysm: I admire you.

I'm thinking in black coffee...

This is my world, let me introduce...

I want to get this point clear:

I don't like you,

I don't wanna date you,

I don't wanna fuck you,

I don't wanna kiss you,

I don't wanna hug you,

I don't wanna love you,

I just want to know you.

Get through all the crap and see what's inside.

Suspended in the air.

I crossed myself this morning with this magazine.

Very interesting, with subjects that I might get familiar with.

I started to think... what's going on inside my head?

I tried to understand... then a face passed by my thoughts,

and I saw the situation.... then I shake my head and try to read again.

I focused on the point of the reading... to become a reader, not a protagonist.

Then somebody's idea interrupted my calmed feelings, and this time i tried to take a deep breath so I could keep on reading and maybe fix some pieces of whatever it is! ...but I couldn't, I choked.... I couldn't get air, I was fading away but remained conscious, I kept on my real way there wasn't a solution for me to get rid of....

Then I thought of you and I realized that theres any, any way... that I can't be this impulsive. Rubbing my eyes, pressing my face against my hands, I can't get the center.

I'm trying to text you away, So I don't puke! But the room becomes smaller, and the fan starts to spin slower... and I can't breath.

Makes me wonder if I'm just having this paranoid attack, but if I'm the paranoid who's gonna tell me...

I figure out: if I'm alone... Who am I talking with?

And I'm sick of being my own freaking psychologist, finding a reason, finding a solution or pattern for every reaction that I take... I can't get myself understand that, that isn't gonna make them less harmful.

Then I calm myself... some sort of bipolarity, I wish I could have that disease... at least if I am crazy... I wouldn't know... Who can ever convince a lunatic, that he's insane?

Give me, looking and digging for my dose of caffeine along with the incomparable mint&nicotine.

Sideout in a button, incredible things that you can learn from random labels.

Addict by 18.

Sudden moon threatening, on the highest spotlight to come out.

And there's me and my eternal way to become the dessert.