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when I had to think clearly.
"Stay away or force me to shoot you in the front, and it will not hurt more than it hurts me to see what you've become."


a popping sound was heard and decided. Killed the love of his life to not see how he slept with the lowest on behalf of misery.

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my arms trying to escape, attempt
die in yours.

I have not achieved, the service pulls too. Upgrade to leave here something I wrote several days ago. I promise to write soon, maybe the next two entries are two surprises, and I hope that he will touch on each case, are welcome. (And for all of you, would be an honor to be so.)


I see smiles drawn across the sky that covers the sea, looking out the window
.
Along the sky I see your smile hidden in the night.
moonless night. Night
star whose only imagined your smile.
And an angel is coming, I can not see.
I can not see your hands if you still remember your body. Contin
or imagining. Waste
remind me why you're not with me, and I think
write these verses.
rhyming verses which symbolizes the time that I stopped loving you.
The wind calls your name,
makes it a fragile memory.
The rain does not fall, is absent on this night ours
but a gray dawn speak your name,
pass into oblivion.
I know my destiny is to love you the same way, love, love the sea and sky. I think
create you from my verses,
really do not know if they were created from your existence.
rhyming verses which symbolizes the time that I forgot your name.

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Candombe, I hope. Among missed calls and letters, even if this appears cold, and it is, is nothing less and I know less than formally thank that I have wanted.
I will miss reading the blogs of a man from Madrid, a man from Sevilla, a Basque lady repressed and frigid like all Basque but with charm and two girls, one of Catalonia do not know if I will read or withdrawn will be unable to leave me comments and other do not know if the same source or only sympathizer.
not think about the things that have haunted me these past three days, not if people do not deserve my attention. For that I have the extreme music, so much hate and show some hate. I hope to bring

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I am facing the end of the morning with this thought tormented
.

good thing have had literature classes after all this time. Enormous feats of divination of my teacher. Pity

name, a great poet, a great poem that reminds me of you, you know who you are.


looking for you Forgive me for going so clumsily
within
you. Forgive
pain sometime.

I just want to take away your best you.
That you do not dress and I see,
swimmer for your background, precious. And

and have it catch me at the top as you light the tree
last
he found the sun. And then you

would come looking for him at the top.

To get to rise above you as you want, and just playing
your past
with the balls of your feet,
in tension throughout the body, and you climb
yourself.

(SALINAS, Pedro; The voice you due )

You know how he knows the silence. You know the night as you know every inch of my hands, but have not seen. Know what they wrote and it is as if he knew everything. You know how he knows the silence. And the silence knows how much I love you.

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Sola and once again you're always trying to forget
.

After some requests happened to summarize the most important events of the end of year trip to Italy. There have been some good, some less good and more plentiful, harmful things. Now I'm home I feel all pretty funny, but anyway, has been a journey that will remain etched in my memory as an example of what has never repeated again.

DAY 1 .- We arrived at night to go to school buses. The first thing that happens is that both me and Andrea (the name because it will be a factor quite repeated throughout the trip) we have to leave the bus marginadísimas of thugs chuar a fucking toilet my mood was summed up grrr and smashed my knuckles
while the rest went to eat. We arrived at the hotel and was only recently that we had to sleep with two of the thugs of the bus because among our "friends" and the thugs we had gone to stay off the lot, saved us teachers, it is seen that the face of comeniños help to try to prevent me from killing the roommates mushroom (mushroom). Cojonudísima room, though.
DAY 2 .- Except for the breakfast, I confirm that Rome is a putísima shit. We visited a ruined Coliseum and turned into an almost theme park and fora with homophobic and sexist guide. I e
No suicide . After lunch the teacher-guide will drop when crossing a traffic light, make half pick up group from the rest, pass through the lining of the balls and the scheduling of visits made by themselves with a few only two visits I was interested to see Rome. Andrea and I, along with another boy, we are dedicated to see Rome. At night I discovered how bad it was the bottle of Sambuca that occurred to me to buy (due to WhiteFang brands) and that being vegetarian is a big drawback.
DAY 3 .- Remarkable as unsettling was the choice of site on eating along with the joy of seeing the beautiful girl who was a waitress at the restaurant we went to crappy food. Alsoucha in the center of the toilet with a hole in the ground.
another mention here. That afternoon I saw one of the prettiest girls I've seen in my life. He had a pink shirt, but anyway, this girl was not normal, was an angel. What a beautiful (smiley face).

DAY 5 .- Mosque monumental evening dragged through times that were Cojonudos because we could not see anything interesting because of the queues (grrr
later), but was offset by that day I had the best meal of my life that I remember, the site was cheap and very elegant. Elegant my way clear, sober and such. I had lunch with wine, I always wanted to do, the food was perfect (pizza and such, very good) and with whom the company was REALLY. This was one of the best days because everything was beautiful (too beautiful), and as Andrea and I decided to spend the rest of the group I had no mosqueo (a universal law is that Venice is impossible to get angry and behave vulgar). What happens to this city is that famosetes sites as the bridge of sighs and others, among which are crowded and is no wonder that the city do not seem okay, but then you go a little to your ball and you see beautiful things that are not overly packed with tourists and where it seems you're in a cloud of cotton in the style of my most corny poems. We saw a very majete museum, I missed one person and had to invite me to eat because I ran out of money I had brought. (So