Now. It's time to say adiós.Que new voices sing. Thanks.
"Millions of hands just to get in an hour. Have traveled to many different hourglasses of all sizes. What we fear of X decreases, which brings us back to ourselves. At the conclusion of the first, my nails have shone for a moment of consummation, and then I have fallen all ground, melting in ants of mercury. Now I have scented labyrinth where children used to have nails. Some also just spill their contents, just finished, poured, and hair by hair, strand by strand, I lose my hair are now aimed revolution sperm to fertilize the womb of existence. What was once a curly mane, envied by the wind, is now a crater skull very much like those of the distant moon. When will this end, I wonder what time. But it may, my question one of those last hours. My skin is wrinkled with age spots 3 rd, and one of those hourglasses sustained oxygen more gravity, no doubt considerable, lies already said goodbye to my skin turn into a snake infinite and that has made the ancient world outside of my sensory intuition beating a ball spell. I am a true reflection of the skeletons in anatomy classes and school visits first floor now closed. I can not deny my nature to ever changing state. But it must be said, before my tongue becomes a sea, before my throat is the underground corridor of those dungeons, it must be said, long before the privacy of eclipses, it should be, before, much earlier, before any numbering stands guard, is imposed, there is always a zero, a zero left, a zero does not count with his fingers crippled, one invisible crown, a bow in flames yesterday lions of water flowing through the twilight, a vagina that we espouse with his cosmic alliance with the great desire which no death cried tears of uterine involves manifest our own song, our continuous place in the world, vivid return, weaving and unraveling the same item in the cell of time, celestial spheres, spheres and more areas that we travel, demarcating the boundaries our capital miraculous walk we said, with his hands well to tell the time feared darkness, we were Darkener as Persia, we hid our lips under rocks melted, a zero order exemplified if need be, by the amazing context in which is limited. And my eternal night
goes back, ruffles his back, stretching like an invasion, just lit a yawn, back to my never-ending soul leaving the earth leading to my quicksand, lifted, lifted by its claws blinding initials perplexed him, strange to me, prophetic, that sensibly tell me who I am, who I am. But I'm not looking for my name, none of that, and do not jump from being to being with innumerable bells sewed for my soul over her hymen light the nine muses of Thrace, none of that, no be jumping to be. I tell you who I am. "
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