What you want?
Cigarette, right?
Always is it!
There is no fire, right? Did you start smoking yesterday?
It started yesterday too, right?
I almost did.
Seven days smoking cigarette,
Seven days that I know ...
It began after a diagnosis,
It makes no difference,
I was spitting, coughing ...
Terminal Cancer.
Hey!
How can you live like this in misery?
Nothing!
No food, no work, no hygiene, no money,
Are not you angry at those people who are poking their nose?
why don't you revolt with your own misery?
What misery?
Perennial son of the terrible existence,
Of the impoverished atom and of any divine misfortune,
His benevolence derives from fear, as it were from a lily to his breast.
And in the distance, to the mirage,
There dwell those who look with black wonder at what is sad and tired in us.
I'm not scared!
But the comfort of a depth,
As a substance.
And I'm part of everything I've loved,
And everything fades like the thin wave on the fine sands.
Stroker walker on the thousand sands.
Pleasure to step on the ground and experience the wave pull the sand.
A little sun and salt lulls cravings.
The pains that show themselves in others.
Manly need to dive and glide to the shifting waters.
This craving that revolves in the rhythm of the waves.
Be a kid and imagine what the water hides behind your back.
One day death.
The foundation.
The place where lies the finitude and the indefinite.
Tessitura of a time,
Sculptor of nature. And everything slips, falls apart.
Accompanied by this condemnation to the dust...
Everything is so clear to me.
As it is delivered to the donkeys is death,
But a part inherited from those who do not deserve to have it is life!
What's your problem, man ?! I just drowned there ...
You did not see?
I saw yes, I realized!
For what should be the true relation to life, if not to face it cold?
Hey, wait, wait, wait, wait!
And facing the cold what are we ?!
Now he that feareth not life, but fear not death.
Hey!
Here, get me fifty cents ...
For me to buy, to buy my coffee!
You have enough!
What did you say?
What is the value of this version of misery if the whole is miserable?
Little does he know that I envy him. Just because it's not me.
Hey brother, God loves you, did you know that?
He died on the cross so that we would have eternal life ...
And I could have love for each other, so if I can get dressed ...
You want it here right? Buy a gun!
Maybe it's a nightmare,
The feeling of dread and suffocation.
It is not the demon's palm,
But the unconscious giving up of crossing the daily desert,
Trying to extinguish itself in the oasis of the dream.
But when they wake up, it's just relief.
There is no need to recognize the human nature,
I'll wake up and see lambs of blood heading for a promised hill of delirium!
Even if you find an improper beat,
So it would be good if they were right,
That the world is part camouflaged by the cries,
That life is carried out by extras,
And all this was but a shadow,
That any time, the sky will open like a window.
And a calm voice will say that my idea of death does not exist.
That no one leaves for ever.
But that everything is just a tourist!
An excursion to the corner of the eternal.
My pain would be put on the highest point,
And the sea would sweep every sad skull,
So that miserable consciousness will never surface.
I could then make a choir with the lambs,
Go towards the mountain and never face my ghosts any more.
I would have a fuller life,
More life than life! I would have.
But that from this life the fundamental flaw was never extracted.
Is that you?! Ham?
Will you stay on top of your indifference?
Will not you answer anyone?
Are you going to let them erase their faces? Will kill me? And what's in here with me?
It is? Only?
Will it tarnish the past? Are you going to leave the carcass? It is? Just the sand on which I walk?
When consummated the trajectory appears,
The saying is to die soon.
Before I fled to the sea and found the music
Like eternity.
Outgoing horizon of unsatisfactory satisfactions,
Stable comforts of uncomfortable lives,
Truths of an Abolished Heritage,
The time has come when it is said no more.
The sense is sought.
The other skin is the direction of this skin,
Consuming the grains of the earth is the meaning of this stomach,
But the consciousness of this consciousness is not ignored,
Although it gives life a value that is of no use,
After all, at the end of everything is this cease to be,
This.
There is always a useless truth.
To look at one's life and see if something has changed is the reason for being here.
Therefore it is no more than sand.
One unit of carbon.
The material world around,
All things are nothing but possible movements of consciousness.
The bet on the moves is to try to hit the true experience.
To know that in the center of values lies a love of misery.
Because love resists only where there is suffering.
That is why this suspicious conscience lies who does not know this sea and this love as lifelike pieces of life,
Or ressarcis of the death,
But he knows them like a wave, a strong enough,
To uproot us from these footsteps in the sand!
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