seems that ... Today
April rain seems ripe. So does a good day than a bad one, and is that when March, Marcee, April abrilea, tell Xoco.
- course is that each month, I answer, that is different from its preceding and following it.
- Yes, it seems that the thing has to be. Always been like that since man is a man who has a dog at his side.
Then we look and we laugh about this boring old conversation. These fall into the Turk had to compose a poem for this week.
- Hey and the poem? ...
- That I have it ...
- Then take it out and share and submit to the verdict of our readers
- It left me love
- Ideal for this season, I answer
- But love is stale, not sublimated, he says ruefully. I have gotten into the skin of a man because it gives more room in love for a dog, you know as we are ...
- Well, well ... we'll take it out magnanimous and benevolent. We
cebaremos
Each
canary in the cage every pigeon in his nest
each
moon and night and every Sunday kiki
In the arms of sleep the night
the chicken alone, as we sleep we
after kiki in the corner. Speaking
things lovers:
my lack of erections, of your voice
half shrill
my glass eye and
your breasts with silicone.
so long ago ...
I had a few years you were not yet fulfilled
fifty-two. These meats
tight that no hit man, perhaps
amojamadas,
or lack of grip.
That look sharp and proud bovine
that it seemed divine. That skin
syrupy,
for some raisins,
still keep in memory
for being my first love,
and touching it first before anyone
bear. I recall peacefully
those nights of love Sink
reluctantly
removing a hornet,
in the heat of your legs,
the way to your stronghold. Brutish
I lost my manhood
head and other knowledge, if not
temperature
or perhaps by the smell. This pleasant whiff
virgin, wrinkled and musty smelling
mussels.
And your kilos of dried
between ankle and chin?
De sylph idealized
not because
mechanism or because low passion, was transformed into a cow
your voluptuous body to get the romp.
I feared for the bed, everything was
for my little
to give you satisfaction!
As I relive the scene of those nights of tenacity delivered
listening to my crotch
television.
you ate, I drank delivery
fence that nonsense that night debauchery
powders between seven and eight,
I know, nonsense!
That, if it was released.
play with perversions as playing
anise.
discover something new,
a world sensation,
the love with pain.
I remember as a scream, pretending
not know if or not to kick your ass
with steel chain.
are so many memories!
clamps on my penis, my debut
penetration Chinese
playing with balls and other things of sex-shop
your kisses
remember those who said they were black but
were kisses tenderly. I remember the transvestite
Only memories left me!
there as I loved you!
and ends up discovering,
as those who do not want the thing, almost accidentally
that were sticking to me when I had plenty of time
with the leg. A black man from Senegal
Glad your stuff:
your device in the teeth,
your lace bras, panties
those roses
your vaginal yeast.
your breasts lusty wild
of our powders.
But in the end it was over. And
the promises given and I have no illusion that neither
lengthen my penis and scrotum I
operated in the non-use, the condom. Not changing my underwear
weeks if not weeks
And careadas wheels, I do not want
fillings or bagpipes now that you've lost me
illusion.
March with the black lame
that came from another land is
as a hornet.
will give you more than a mat
but that from my experience
know you like a lot.
And though it lacks a leg to spare
other a lot, twenty-
the shoes you do not I have.
But the final size
is something that no matter
and that's not me talking,
sexologists say that these TV
.
And after a few years,
bad fuck and
toothless and return to my pile.
make do with this half
which is the national average for men
Spain,
and not a lot of black.
forgive me and all:
the failure to get up,
that I fence at the wrong time,
that use pinch, I vallan
transvestites, I'm clean
in the shade,
I smell the cheese.
For this my love,
this is true love.
And what gave you that black was empty
only lust,
flower one day and passion.
- What, you liked? Dándoele tells me how completely the same yes a no.
- I say nothing that would not influence the opinion of our friends, but a tad crude, Just in case ... if you have left. And more than love, it seems to go against love. But hey, the world of poets is, and each author pours his inspiration accompanied by the words and meanings that most caught his hand.