You die, love, love you, I make my skin urgency of you, From my soul to you and my mouth And the unbearable that I am without you. I die for you and me, both die, Us, in that, Torn, party, I die, I die, we die. I die in my room when Im alone, In my bed where faults, On the street where my arm is empty In film and parks, trams, The places where my shoulder usually your head And my hand your hand And all I know and myself. We die on the site that I lent the air So youre out of me, In the place where the air is just When I miss my skin above And we know for us, apart from the world, Blissful, penetrated, and certainly endless. We die, we know, ignore it, we die Between the two, now separate, Of each other, daily, Cayéndonos multiple statues, In gestures do not see, In our hands in need. We die, love, die in thy womb I do not bite or kiss, In your thighs we sweetest and vivid, In your flesh endless masks I die, From dark and relentless triangles. Die my body and your body, Of our death, love, I die, we die. In the well of love at all hours, Inconsolable, crying, Inside me, I mean, I call you, They call those born, those who come From behind you, which you arrive. We die, love, and nothing we do But we die again, hour after hour, And write and tell us and we die.
Posted on: Thu, 15 Jan 2015 01:09:57 +0000
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