Infections More Condition_symptoms I like you ...

  is so simple, so simple ...        

I like airplanes, I like you .

I like traveling, I like you.

Like the morning, I like you.

Like the wind, I like you.

I like to dream, Ilike you.

I like the sea, I like you.

I like the guitar, I like you.

regaee I like, I like you.

& amp; nbsp;

I'll do, je ne sais pas.

I'll do, je ne sais plus.

I'll do, je suis perdu.

That hours are, my heart.

I like the canela, I like you.

I like fire, I like you.

I like wiggle, I like you.

Coruña I like, I like you.

Like Malasaña, I like you.

I like the brown, I like you.

I like Guatemala, I like you.

I'll do, je ne sais pas.

I'll do, je ne sais plus.

I'll do, je suis perdu.

That hours are, my heart

Float Bowl Metal Phbh Phbl Dellorto Only death

There are lone cemeteries, graves full of bones
without sound
the heart through a tunnel
dark, dark, dark,
in a shipwreck we die
as we drown in the heart,
as we go falling from the skin of the soul.




There are corpses, feet
is cold and sticky clay, death is
bones,
as pure sound,
as a barking dog,
out of certain campaigns, certain graves,
growing in damp air like tears or rain.



I see, alone, veces,

coffins under sail sail with the pale dead, dead women in braids,
with bakers white as angels,
thoughtful girls married to notaries, caskets sailing up the river
vertical of the dead, the river
purple
up, with sails filled by the sound of death,
swollen by the silent sound of death.



drawn to sound the death
like a shoe without a foot, like a suit without a man,
comes to knock with a stone ring, and fingerless
comes and shouts with no mouth, no tongue , no throat.

However

his footsteps sound and dress sounds, silent as a tree.

I do not know, I am ignorant, I hardly see
but I think his singing has the color of damp violets, of violets
accustomed to the earth,
because the face of death is green, and
gaze of death is green,
with the penetrating dampness of a violet leaf
and the somber color of embittered winter.



But death also goes through the world dressed as a broom, lapping the floor looking
dead;
death is in the broom, in the language
ldeath looking for corpses,
is the needle of death looking for thread.



Death is in the cots:
on the slow mattresses, in the black blankets lying
lives, and suddenly breathes out:
blows out a mournful sound that swells the sheets, and there
beds
sailing toward a port where death is waiting, dressed like an admiral.

Tired Yeast Infection Implantation AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH ....

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH WOMEN !!!!!!!!!

Diy Tilting Trike Designs My life tastes like you ...

AHMM porq nu ... but today it seems to me that double post ...
greetings to all!

      is  not stop thinking about you, 
 since I first saw you. 
      
 was beautiful there just like you, 
 and your white shirt and blue. 
 
 did not seem possible that so many people there 
 pudieses you look out at me. 
      
 
 And now I can not be almost, 
 not see without thinking about where you are, 
     such  
 yesterday I was with demore 
 to see who says I love you now. 
 
 When I smiled without speaking, 
      
 was as if I started flying, it seems inevitable 
 our love, 
 we have no fear or pain. Promise 
 
 again that is true it is, 
 are looking just for me. 
      
 
 And now I can not be almost, 
 not see without thinking about where you are, 
     such  
 yesterday I was with others, 
 to see who I want says now. 
 
 You swear that will never end, 
 that is not the primAvera, who leaves, 
      
 what I want most is to have you here, 
 my life now I know you. 
      Your 
 
 swear that will never end, 
 is not spring, he goes, 
 what I want most is to have here.