Shipwreck
further Covered his arms from the cold of the night, her feet playing with drawings of a sewer. The eyes that seemed to him looked like a black sea. A kind of shipwreck quiet soothing.
- Are not you afraid?
wished to say no.
- Fear of what?
-A strangers.
He wondered if the black sea also would melt in a puddle of sewage. Black, yes. As the sky as the ground. As his eyes and his jacket.
"We are all strangers," he muttered, slowly. You and me. And those there. Y tdesktop search, you know nothing.
-So who are you afraid?
More silence. Or gin. Or grayscale sinking a ridiculous and long night.
- Are you afraid to know?
"I have fear ... "He began, noting the ice apart in the tips of your fingers ... I have fear to fear. He snorted, stretching his legs. He rose from the improvised seat on the curb.
"You're like a fucking goat. entire sentence.
And yes. As a goat whore sitting on the sidewalk. As a fucking goat in the middle of nowhere. As a whore
goat suicide in a wreck alcantarilthe.
- So what?
---- I'll leave here, too =) but this itself is posted on the blog.
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