I wake up in the toilet. It seems like a month that are in here judging by the stench of aloneness.
Groggy from sleep as I was rediscovering my sleepwalking with the unconscious and that suggests to me that the intestines are more important than the rest of the rest. Or perhaps more importantly do not let me wake up in a bed of dirty shit. It would be the material realization of my life: I blessed that I sleep in disgust that I myself have come out all by himself.
I wake up I still have his hand before his eyes. I turned on the light even before I sat down. My skin tells me that the process is smaller than my ass and my hand greater than my forehead. The palm and the index covers my eyes flowing like a river seen from a satellite: the move, although it seems to stop. I feel the elbow resting on his thigh in the head and the echo of my last thoughts. I do, I do, I do ...?
I take toilet paper and read it. There is no written anything yet. I use it and here I find myself in your hands one of those cards that are fortune cookies in China when the waiters remember to bring one. I know that there is blood, they told me the tears that wet my hand.
Seeking the sun with myopic eyes of those who have their glasses and no, it's still too early. I'm the only one to think so. All the doctors say it is too late: there's no one around me here
Shhh ... details.
Disclaimer
Just who is the health, right? After the break a month I'm back in style. And if you do not understand how big you can see that you have not paid attention to all the times I had to pull the drain.
Welcome back to me!
Music on air: Klink - Diamond
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