micro conto # 7
depois de tanto abrir gavetas os meus pulsos tornaram-se puxadores e nunca mais pude deixar aquele sítio. ali vivi até ao meu último segundo. com um abraço à gaveta.
micro novel # 7
after opening so many drawers my wrists became knobs and i was never able to leave that place again. there i lived until my last second. with a hug to the drawer.
she told me that in her stories of flesh my name crawled underneath her teeth, her tongue with a name inside her. head. give me. mine. not as real as it is seeming. are we becoming a shelter of fire in disguise. too much. in her stories crawling . to be continued as a perfect fit. as a perfect
fix
gimme shelter for thy pain shall nurture my comfort in the journey to the springs of the sea. where the gates are shown to us. where the death resides in every tree. the flower of wheat. won't know all of this and be everything. the mysteries of the stones that lava draws. my comfort
a gun
