To love you is blacker
than the darkest nigger in slavery times.
Always appears your untrue body,
the false memory about you
inside me. These paranoic thoughts, concerning your beauty.
My Internet seeking of you
and this noise that you are in my life.
Watching famous girls that make me remember you:
many seductive eyes
many shaped bodies
many emptyness along my youth.
Time and speech lost: when was the first time we saw us?
And maybe is just my madness and you are not real.
And no one could chance the world.
And nothing is in the future that help us to avoid our suffering.
The years are always the same.
Each spring I remember our dance.
I know we are not real. I know your are a phantom.
I am the slave of the most insignificant moment of your life.