Un Processed Cocoa Powder

R. A . P

Emana black ink
milk flavor of my nipples azure.
poems are written in the folder of the abyss.
on tiptoe, silent and with boots in hand, still naked
- my tongue is black - and the door ajar I left behind
honey
your eyes look for me in dreams, dreams that rampaging fire that kills
. And nothing is iron because you're sleeping.
There is only water and lead boots in my hands, cyan glow
feeding the dead. Emana
naked black ink and I

across
I see that from here the door open is almost


now closed.

Milani Denise Hard Core

Safrika

What you want to ask of life?, Ana asked, sitting on that bridge both on the highway, my feet dangling in a vacuum. He waited to see a red car to answer. Happens very fast, said then. So they stayed for a long time, watching those multi-colored candy beneath them. Someday you'll stop thinking like that, do not you may have noticed, but then you will see that everything is different. Ana's words mingled with the noise of traffic and only a few small fragments came to his ears. Nor did it matter much, he would not answer anything to say. Do not you realize you had a lifetime waiting for?, Let go, looking into her eyes, trembling. Did you get a sense of disappointment? The last question hovered over them and slow down, like a feather, like his head, which looked at the river sentencing metal fish: you were my destiny.

How Long Will Epididymitis Last If Untreated

A poem: Evening with insects in his mouth. Injuries

I can never fully meet up, join, paste, articulate properly braying mule, pig grunts, squawks obscene from your great lips. Worse than in a corral.
Sylvia Plath.




desfatachez once told me you had the ugliest things in the world.
remember that you were down the hall, the home of that horrible, they traveled up and down
, blood in the end, what was left of me, I had
fear, challenge you, you turned away I started hitting


wall with

closed fist, then.
did not open the door to my friends, not picked up the phone,
ate too much, watching TV, napping always
world was out there passing as an elegant car with Bowie inside
while my kills, I grew
polish and puffy face in the mirror suggested that guts and violence.
You can hate hated as the mouth of a wolf, the master, the implacable,
I hated the same way as pitch, of love, unforgiving

losing the
stirrups learned the disaster of the war came to seem an art to
you read Sun Tzu, nothing was beautiful in that house, the dog just brought some life
bustled me that misery decorating with blue paint and asphalt.
should forgive me for allowing it all, try to do now with
psychoanalysis, love, a house with no hallways, all air, all clean,
sort of strategy to slow down from boredom. I write books, I like to sit on the bench
in front of house, sun, night, very late
get drunk, make love to what I call making love, no rust or nightmares
only soft, like a socket

lung.
rid of you, with the latter poem, as if you fall from a third party and not

died.

Dental Reception Cover Letter

I go.

I guess I will bring back in September.

If so, read Bolaño and distrustful of editors.
(Photo is of Gerda Taro)

SCRATCH AM TIRED LEGS FOR DAYS TO GET BLOOD Later he picks up the scabs to see if the wounds have healed

is perfectly

that this does not lead anywhere

I should be more respectful

myself

smile in the morning

get up to a good start

die of laughter

of senseless jokes

with which other

constantly presents me

turning on streetlights sing

while everyone cheers

sick of flattery

a soulless morons

who hold the key

(supposedly)

of worldly success

leave the path of the loser

to fight against the

bypass

missing person making to get

my own goals

make it unique and definitely ...

... a real writer

Occupational Therapy Soap Note Sample

And cried when follábamos. Deeply. Moaned with pleasure, but the tears rolling down your face. Cried like many other occasions. And I had come to get used to, but never understood what he had. After sitting the two in bed with a cigarette between his lips, you were trying to explain. I talked about wheat fields and bare wrists. Immense evenings as lakes. She explained something about an injury from those that are not and that never heal. Such as ulcers and bleeding. Then I pressed you against me, and you came back to mourn and I had the impression that you want me hurt. Want to hurt you, and that either fucking or listening to our favorite album would be tears Cuban Five. And since then I have a mission based on meeting you all your extension, through and through, not leaving a cell of your mind without crawling in search of a wound as old as the earth and as ubiquitous as love.

Fastest Point And Shoot Digital Camera

Sense contemptible in the nebula


Leo in the nebula

my luck when the stars go veil-
ces and very dark.
Wheel: term blow. Health
old tiger oh the sun! This bottle:
tell us the truth before the leaves came flying through the ether? Or you burn or you let
cut. Health until death,
Dylan Thomas, the star of alcohol
alum us to see that bet and lost.

was not God. We ran too quick with the torch-cha
burned in our hands wandering
libérrimos and fly home. "My father played
dirty
Kafka said the witness.
Mortal, mortal error
Nadu put it birth: we are hungry.
But the fire is down with the dead who are still growing. We

hunger. I hear voices and write about the wind without my board

sheets of salvation. That left shaking this knife.
No heaven but blood and blood of women only where they read their star
nudes.
And another thing is death to us at once. Where are we?
Only then kiss: I touch you, Eternity!
I hear in the dark when they start crying mother of
roots. GONZALO ROJAS