a week ago that I turn to a poem
that this is not, looking for a verse
you scratch the heart sings
Joaquin
I go back to warm and feed the gourd
yes, it's that
,
nothing more and nothing less,
the leitmotif of my attempt, something you scratch
and something else too.
something elegant and hurtful,
something to tell you:
Wake up, here I am.
something between inflammatory and heroic, something shot
or trigger,
a word that works the same way it worked
your eyes,
that is my green eyes are another invention
Argentine
of those that bark and end point.
sometimes runs a bit
the love we feel
so compulsively.
fever
almost always leads to delirium, no brainer. Jaime
could summon, heal
expect from you,
but no and no and no. I turn on stupidity
never feared,
is that one of my many shortcomings,
'm stubborn, immediate and visceral.
like the next time I see you do not end up kicking cans
,
want to tell you that,
I would tell you that ...
pucha, this poem is not
you expected, maybe I'll fix
the Canary
yes I get: matt
primed to like you.
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