rainbows of January are aliens industry. autopsies still suffered with the handcuffs. with their wrists linked by a long breath. the trauma of toilet paper. "You have your years, but they've never really possessed." the dishonor of the true last April colored. South American window and its diseases. anhydride on the rooftops fired. another window that shows colors for hours. and then even the smell of gunpowder that can only be that cool, if you live by yourself. words cut out from your clothes wet paper. words derailed from your destiny dance wasted. breaths and then less elongated. we waited a short trip. blurred by the wet dust that enters the corridors of the city. and do not forget I finished
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