párense. please.

i don't want to HEAR any of it.

let me choose for myself. let me research and find out stuff on my own. let me SEE it. put it in my hands so that i can entwine my fingers around it. i want it to be real.

chase it, grasp at it, clutch it in your palms. don't let go. if you let go, it will fly away, a fleeting brushstroke, an ephemeral butterfly

ever feel like you're in a cage, trying to get out. probing at every corner, trying to find the one weak spot. [but they are iron bars.] and the cage shrinks every day.

who? what? when? where? how? why?
taste the dewdrops on thine eyes...

17 years. 17 years. and 16, and 15, and 14, and more..
why do you not just count all the way down to zero while you're at it?
or perhaps you will count up instead. make time go faster. swing around the minute hand on the reloj de la vida.



y otro día, saliendo el Sol.....and the sun rises on another day
por mis pecados, Señor, perdóname en el nombre de su hijo