Flor de agosto
Poeta que considera el portal su segunda casa
Im like a child that has been a child forever. Not so pleasant to wake up from childish dreams and understand I’ve spent all this time sleeping.
The joy of the mind... an illusion. My body woke up first all messed up and in pain. It matters not to the laws of the universe. The world is still in motion. Like Rip Van Winkle the time has passed. Aware of nothing but my dreams.
The joy of the mind... an illusion. My body woke up first all messed up and in pain. It matters not to the laws of the universe. The world is still in motion. Like Rip Van Winkle the time has passed. Aware of nothing but my dreams.