life back to me to be a return doublet girl and use the summer that I wove my grandmother turned to me solitude a tearful longing, the dream is homesick for my days and waking ghost constant persecution by the cloud forests of the echoes. Must be because I am old and I live in the memory. Maybe that's why I did not react and legs as before. Everything hurts. The waste of energy, laughter, grace, is something from another time. My sex is increasingly up, gray and wrinkled. Canas out in my pubic white and increasingly heavily populated the mountain where once so often worshiped the goddess Venus. My eyes are burning, I fall asleep watching TV. I shot fart more often, although less toxic, odorless. And I have belly, my boobs fall.
is increasingly fewer people in the business. We no longer live my curves, but of income. I have become angry and in the neighborhood and are renowned the my bitter grudge against the postal service and electricity, from the aqueduct, the company telephone and newspapers.
that each time as I enjoy less and more quickly, pass the throes of climax, and the meat is not crowded and my juices, they are not disgusting secretions, I was practically extinct. The only thing that comes is the old Froila, I wanted Froilan occasionally find comfort in my faded anatomy.
What a disgrace! I, which unanimously called "the prettiest" girl of the long hair, the very cute neighborhood, the graceful little boy in the alley of the Souls. Yo, I stood on young bodies up and down Jacob's ladder leading to the sky a thousand stars. I, who was the most lost and never bitch all the same, the treacherous who slept after battle of love with dentists and engineers, carpenters and masons, domestic and foreign, with the police a dozen times, once with a priest Monsignor and other no more and no less than Her Excellency the Minister of Finance don national ticket I got inside vagina, to get them wet and put them to roast him, as I said on the night table where they remained until, in effect , stiffens and he laughed and then hugged me curled up, saying: "I'm your samophlange" and I forgave him Pilatuña.
Of that, nothing remains. The force became a faithful public, other queers and those who continued to visit, the students were killed one by one from the violence of drug traffickers in the country broke. The priest Archpriest Mgr did and now pontificates in a very large church, thick columns of marble. It is no longer for. The minister and others, left the adventures and became monogamous, the situation is not for hassles.
Today, just in case I wind up her skirt Levantine and these old hands are crossed that I took her down, and so you can sit to pee on the toilet, and to put on my pajamas and vaporous chiffon over pink with which I sleep, when I can and want and no conscience haunts me and I do not stun the memories and not raging in my throat gastric juice, or pressure me up or my head hurts, and I come reflux, or sharpens me dyspepsia. Nothing more.
live without children, or mother. Because I never had those, this because I took to the streets early and never again looked to the very bloody. And what if they say he died.
Amores, there were some. To all offices. The baby was sickly and distracting me.
's not very big my heritage. I will end up being an old lady for bourgeois of those that hold clinics to care for the nuns to give them to eat and clean water in case they shit their pants.
Old age is a wait. Nothing to be done. As there is no grace, we waste time and kill the hours, now facing the street from the second floor where I live, now with the hearing loss in nimbostratos beyond which the angels sit to play the harp in the sky who never go.
So while I hope one day of my death declare again and again and again: Do not leave heirs. My property, which will eat the rust fretful, after the draw in my face strange rictus grimace final.
I'm alone for anyone to see me when you pass and if you see me, they turn their face, to spend long, not gossip. I die alone, in solitude I was born.
I wanted to be bad, sinful, perverse, wayward. I am. I struggled to get it and I succeeded. Now that leaves me as an unrepentant, bitter, gnawed for years and the mistakes of so many decades.
All my properties are consumed gradually, that nobody uses them. It is my last wish for this city forever remember shit here, where I write this, he lived a full bitch, of which are devoted to their craft by vocation and because quite simply scratch their ass, that is also possible in human geography.
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