The first streaks of dawn altering the night sky Yet the same glorious sensation Beneath the weight of his body I found I could not move And with one urgent thrust he entered me Then it was over. I closed my eyes and thought with a smile that rape had occurred, not lovemaking. Release my arms, please. There’s no need. Am I cold? A foolish question. My life is cold. For me, it’s always like that: The slow unclasping of a fist, you displayed a convincing ignorance to my satiated eyes. Would there never be an end to it, to the almost penal servitude which his memory demands of me? My all patterned in damask and floral design inside doesn’t feel able to find relief I ease down into the elegant brass hipbath Weary at dusk No answer, I reach for the sponge Relaxing in the tub This life suits me very well Allows me to fight off the loneliness On thinking of the past My heart seems to sit like a stone in my breast.
O Funcionamento da Máquina de Fumaça
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Enquanto eu quase fui atropelado pela motorista que furou o sinal vermelho
quando eu já estava no meio da rua, agressões físicas e psicológicas de
dive...
El gallo giro
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Nací en campo florido
entre arboledas y flores.
Cantar mi cometido,
danzar con mi bello plumaje.
Pensé que levantar al guajiro,
era para lo que había nac...
Uma Palavra
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Essa é palavra morta, já nascida para decompor. É veneno letal produzido
por colônias de incansáveis micro organismos sem líder nem patrão.
Metamorfose e n...