It’s been a week already. A whole week since the last time we met. The first few days were easy. Work. Gym. Telly. Routine. Friends and their advice against her. The fact that I stopped drinking. A feeling of control: over myself, life, the future. Until she came back. “Did you move back to Chile?”…
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I’m high on caffeine and sleep deprivation Quit drinking a week ago A woman I should have quit quit me before High on life now Fucking overdozed I’m sober, yeah Cleaned my act up But all normal I’m a fucking bore Blending in among you, people You see me no more
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My problem is that I fall in love with every woman I fuck. I fuck good, but I am overemotional. To me, when a woman gives me her body, I feel as if she is giving me her soul; that’s part of what makes me hot. And then the whole act has overtones of death…
Read moreIf it’s so wrong Why does it feel so right? And if it feels so right Why the fuck do we let it die? Or was it always going to die? Or maybe it was dead already Like us Like everyone Just animals about to breath For the last time Anytime Soon Late And certainly…
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Tras cuatro meses de crudo invierno y una primavera que parecía no llegar nunca, el sol por fin se ha posado sobre Copenhague. Es curioso como algo tan básico para mí en Santiago de Chile, sea una rareza acá en Dinamarca. Un día caminando por la calle en polera, ¿será mucho pedir? Acá, sí. Pero,…
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