10. no end. I write and without a doubt and your name alone in mind, your name that contains what was not and whose lines are at the same time the shortest distance and infinity. Addition and reconciliation of all opposites. Just one more time will write your name and the last, still looking to lock eternity in five letters. No end your name alone on the last line of the last page as you type. I raise my pen in search of the magic word that is last but not finished. I want to write your name without end or not to write any more so it does not end. Stealing lyrics to dreams and insomnia to write your name in ink of tears and blood that will allow me a single, final word and keep you always set you free. Without end.
was needed little, too little to be happy, but until recently you took and not happy you took everything. You took the hope and future, you left me forever trapped in a world beyond time. You took all love, except your name, sad, and more mine than yours, your name is perhaps the key to start anew, to fill the gaps in your absence with memories, smiles and silhouettes of hands and do not touch me again, with pale or distorted images your eyes do not tell me you want without speaking. At first there is little that needed to be happy, but not anything left. You took the ray of light, trivial drop of water, all you took and I do not know if the memory serves as a comfort that is just another aspect of torment. If you close your eyes and dream works because the dream is always awake. Awakening at the end of the world without light or east, awakening in the infinity of your absence, lost in the darkroom in your name and mine and play echoed between the walls and silence. Waking up in the room you have left no return, where your hand and mine once, but never again. Nothing left. Sleep escape and hope, you took everything because I do not know without waking dream of you crying, injured for life.
Without final beyond a lifetime. No end to think you and miss you all know that you took and your name is just like a lonely echo returns me your absence without image. Your name is the beginning and end of this maze sad I do not know or do not want to leave or I can because I still tie my words and yours. Without end, said. No final vow. Wove endless dreams. Endless life and were able to build new worlds, but now, hanging, executed, nothing remains on the rest of my body to walk or stand, nothing between my eyes to dream and build. Nothing makes my heart and knees to lift the front. There is no escape or hope because you took everything. Without end.
Because unlike love or the presence, only giving up is endless. Hugs are limitless, the tenderness in a glance is endless and every smile has indelibly written and expiration date. But the drop does not end, knows no limits or deadlines, the absence is all that precedes and follows you relentlessly, dark abyss that is impossible to give back, all-encompassing and transforms it into oblivion. Oblivion without end as well, will end without losing the lines on your face and your hands, the faint trace of your scent on my skin. No end you I'll be losing up only your name on the last line of the last page where, with tears and blood will make you eternal by name.
And yet, although I've pulled all reduced to ashes and our brave new world, lifting the pen with your name with no end in principle recover a little of everything that you stole and destroyed. Words, like you said once, words that were not enough to change your world but did my back to give space to smash it. Words may change the world again and make this so always first and always about endless. Words like eternal division of the distance.
Final eternal and the distance you multiply every moment, every step of resignation that separates you from me and all the dreams that wove together. Eternal division while continuing ever onward, the time it begins in your drop and it never ends because they never return. Distance increases with time without end, with each sleepless night where your eyes do not seek and I find your voice. Time, distance and possibilities that are reflections of what it was and what could be. All results in useless words that I repeat over and over again in a vacuum to kill game on impossible in your absence in your ghost lurks in every stranger who crosses the street, in school hallways and anywhere, everywhere your shadow without a body that is made in each body of material that I hope you smile and always gives me strange, emptiness and loneliness. Infinite
the end of the world, with no end time and the words, looks and bodies, shadow of yours that always haunt me in my dreams every night without hope, dreams that wake wounded for life without final. Now I do not know if I want to sleep or insomnia because this horrible waking dreams and bring comfort. Consuelo is your name where your memory closure, memory and grief is relief because you are not. You took everything and just because your name is lonely and sad, now mine, your name and first and last word from which I can reconstruct the past, our twenty days. That cut no you could not take no tear but all I took away. Twenty days to divide into hours, minutes and seconds to go on like this until you reach an infinite number, irrational, to the moment more small and insignificant to occupy the end of the world and let me return the light that you took the universe of your absence without end. Light arising from the detailed account and all of every look, every sigh, caress and kiss. Each change in your skin, every cell that has died in it and was stuck in me, dark trail of your touch. Story and perfect description of how you move, giver of death, thief of hope that you form with molecules constantly evolving, always the same and other, my love, always the same in my mind but always one at every moment, accelerated death and resurrection that gave the body to be hugged and died the next breath. Exist far away, another, but you no longer exist, the same, which was and disappeared into my arms. My memory is a vacuum eternal as your absence, and eternal shall describe our twenty days divisible to infinity, eternal but just enough to escape my mind and fill the space with no end in your game.
But they are words I say. Words are useless I have left and the first of these is your name. I lift my pen to write it. I take a moment to resurrect endless what was your name before, which is now lonely and sad your name mine, I want to overcome the words and find a way impossible to live infinite twenty days and try to imagine all the happiness and you stole, happiness was never like it was mine. But the clouds nothing is built. I lift the pen and your name is about, plain and simple lines about to write with ink of tears and blood. A point of writing your last name and start to mourn without stopping, caught in the moment of the end of the world, in darkness, sad. Levanto point pen to write and write anything. Because everywhere, anywhere, reach me your voice and a smile that says I love you. 'I'm no', says a voice that is yours and no, 'but I'm with you I'm no'. On the wall of this labyrinth without end, scaffold always postponed, delayed execution always, your letter in red ink and blood on the wall writing 'I love you until the end of the world. " Dead rock wall like reliving my body back with your words that are breath, blood, wax and ink on the sentencing of a new beginning.
words, ink and blood on the immovable wall of the end of the world. Blood from our hands they will wear touch, our lips that kiss until it hurts, the blood of our bodies have died of love for twenty days. Blood of your soul and mine, blood formula that are impossible, the magic phrase that finally reconciles all opposites. Since the end of the world are beginning, since the departure a new meeting. And with the blood of the heart that annihilated and did pieces, write the words start to form again.
Your voice reaches me from the infinite distance and time of your absence. Ink and blood to write the impossible into the wall of my prison to which I bind my words and yours. Words in the book where I write and are more prison serious. But in this prison book, on the last page your letter red ink, blood and tears. 'I love you until the end of the world. " For the last time I trust. I raise my pen and write your name not mine alone and that you deleted. I raise my pen and write that I love you without end, in the absence or presence and even in this impossible combination of opposites.
Then the white snake demon, enemy honest prosecutor and is now owner of my soul cries out 'has a boyfriend' and bites. And then, with a touch of its forked tongue in my ear question, soft, seductive: Will you put an end to the endless love that you swore? White snake demon sinks its fangs and glutted with my pain, mouth and body filled with shouts, friend, lover, absence and presence, it does not matter, you hurt for life. You are mine and mine is as its name. Without end.
is right. Known. Although I did not know what he said. The white snake demon always knew. I think of dragons, we paint with ink and blood on the body failed guardians of my soul and my body I pawned to the devil and madness to see you smile. I failed. It is no longer my white snake demon. I am yours. I raise my pen with trembling hands and write what I say, what I feel. What I do not know what it means. I raise my pen and write: no end.
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