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I'm special.

I'm special. Not in general, not as Superman or as Joan of Arc. I'm not special for everyone. I'm special to you. No matter if you have not noticed. No matter if you think we are a couple more you want, they spend time together and talk about their things before, during and after sex. No matter if you think I'm special just because I'm in love with you and because you're in love with me. The important thing is that I know I'm special because, despite everything, I decide to love each day. After each conversation, every look, every kiss, I choose love. After you do or say something that burns my blood, I decide to love. After I hurt without even realizing it, I decide to love. After feeling insecure, jealous, stupid, suspicious, decided to love.

Maybe you think that is normal. That when you love someone, that's what you do. That if I left and find another girl, she would too. But not always. Sometimes they decide it's more important to be right, win the fight, getting an apology, make the other person feel worse than they are or who fails to do or say that it bothers, injures or hurts, make restoring their dignity, safety, to appease their jealousy, fears, feeling better, less idiotic.

do not know if it's a matter of personality or find the person for whom you are special. I do not know if it is good or bad. I do not know if what you want or prefer to start yelling every time the cagaras. All I know is that I am special to you, but do not know, because there are other options, but I decided to always love you.

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mirror

time ago not bear to see the mirror
or the stranger that is reflected in it.
nefarious accomplice who knows my truth
not stand that face mocking I
waves from the Tatar and her eyes that reflect concern
hope that beyond the corridor of my dreams
on a day where the creator of vermin know the dancer from the sewers
can I recover the freshness of my bygone
while Therefore I will continue this sad greeting broken mirror of what I was and could be

written by: eduardo unhealthy

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is gone.

Gone. I was here, flooding every molecule of my being, and is no longer. There. I boiled the blood, burning inside me. I was killing. I was dying. And no. That anger that seeps through every pore, that I was bursting inside, is gone. The same anger that made me think that the world was conspiring against me, that you conspired against me, that there was no justification for what they were doing to me unless I odiases like no one ever hated someone else. But I do not feel well. Now I know what you did had nothing to do with me. What can I jodieras life, but not on purpose. You did to fuck, just to benefit. It's a relief. Know it was for your sake and not for my bad about what you behaved like a complete bastard I feel fine. I'm not so egocentric. I know full well that I am not the center of your world, just mine. And whatever you do, either for or against my goals, it has nothing to do with me. That is not you fall ill. Only you fall better. It seems to me correct. It seems perfect.

But, for once, I think before me than you. Never take it badly, it's nothing personal, but I decided to want a little more to me than yours. So I ask you please not call back to my door, do not try to contact me, do not call me or look for me, I did not expect, I do not speak, do not look at me. Basically, you leave me alone forever.

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Pudorosa

I take off my hands. Entrego
grimaces and gestures

useless eyebrows

impossible.


I shed the
concept that describes and explains perfectly

scandal naked

of knowing.

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words that I like.

1. Ovo.
2. Sarsaparilla.
3. Perfect.
4. Alliteration.
5. Verbigracia.
6. Oligofrénico.
7. Sock.
8. Layer.
9. Delirium.
10. Equidistant.
11. Untimely.
12. Sylph.
13. Gecko.
14. Prolific.
15. Trivial.
16. Vagabond.
17. Voluble.
18. Paracetamol.
19. Dragonfly.
20. Neatness.
21. Dequeísmo.
22. Howl.
23. Sublime.
24. Beets.
25. Convoluted.
26. Everlasting.
27. Evening.
28. Kaleidoscope.
29. Obtuse.
30. Cornucopia.

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Cliché (Opus dos)

Coast hangs over the night. Your smile

wind waves and mouth

accompanies the gesture,
(and
think now is the time, now)
extending
mocking

to infinity (
tell me what does it).

But

(if there is one

at least)

this laxity
irrelevant
(strong word), on the lips

working

and Gentiles,



begins and ends


there

(here).

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doors. Reflections

Sometimes I feel that I take life too seriously. Overwhelm me with little stupid things that have neither head nor tail. That I run the world when I do something wrong and I break my own guilt.

Why

how much to think about what would happen if ...? We'll never know and, indeed, it is not important. There is no evidence that I had done better.

With every step you take, with every decision you make, with every word you say and every gesture that you open a door and close another, choose a path and broken many more.

no time in life to devote to thinking about how your life might have been if you had not done what you did, so do not waste it trying.

From now on, I to dedicate myself to see the doors that open to me with each breath I take, turning a deaf ear to slam that hit the other. As bad as I do not waste a single minute on regret anything because of bad decisions will also open doors. And sometimes, they help you find your way.

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high

night of misery In
high fever sweating
disease sudan watch as the walls to
travez distances
memories and what we perceive?
if crimson fruits are no longer in the desolate fields? Only the urgent need
to be loved
losing in a moment of doubt before which we tremble night
high misery waiting for the dawn
sweating the memories of your indifference
never could stand
never understood why but I always leave happy to
my hole in the ground
never knew that I changed for convenience
the end we are still some children in a carousel
uncertain
try not to get dizzy in high poverty
night sweating fever
disease and not even smile
I regret nothing ...............

written by: eduardo unhealthy

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night of misery Wait Remembrances

Soil

occasions

see the vague rumor of days gone

and I remember the smell of chlorine from the floors

lighters spark in the dark and your laughter amid the smoke dissolves .

soil

occasions felt the icy wind that tears the skin and whisper your name

dumb nostalgia

submitting that in fact life is desolate as a day camp on Mars or a

Sunday without you! that I'm accustomed to empty soil

know that everything that travels through the air between us

son mentiras montadas en oropeles

inciertas ideas que acostumbran sangrar....

escrito por: eduardo malsano