Body Pillow Depot

Black Body Pillow

The sky turned red at the same moment the bird opened its wings. The blood of the bird has blackened background of small wing, this is no longer the master of the mountain shadow and now seeks from grave to grave the preparations for his flight that has collected the chill of the mountain. Begins a journey in every pen and every single flight, the breeze when the legs touch the ground, plus a depth stop . . And you, what are you looking at?. Today, like every night extend the arms to the bed, she would wrap the light that transmits the city and see the black body pillow with me looking for his side, my face is melted and disfigured the same position the mattress sinking thoughts on the sheets. There the night I speak of previous nights, thoughts and acts that were unfulfilled. The dream is on the black body pillow is in front of me and I look like a TV that transmits last wishes. Directly from inside my head, the signal goes to what I see in front traveling from the tubes and thought, are there, as vivid as I wanted to see and not having given birth for convenience. Perhaps it was as bad as doing nothing to stay there all that had a light design an abortion was not painful. The pillow conveys many raw footage, including streets illuminated by the evening lively Santiago and steps with a clear message on his march, is also a body hidden by a black dress and her party mask covering his face, behind his escort role has only been in the hands and the company's reality is low. As they move through the evening Santiago has his way blocked by turtles who want to protect the hunter. The black body is not stopped, going for walks and on sea, the hunter aims but not fire. A smile goes behind the mask, the music starts and the turtles are on bikes not to be reached. The night is party. People go out to the street, fireflies light dishes and children forget the jumping to his feet. . .
Sonara tirelessly throughout the function and one of the more nervous the audience looks around and only with his eyes, as almost all movements are prohibited. Lights up on a voice will come out as dull, with gorgoritmos and nostalgia, as if through the sea, or air-filled water. The voice did not say anything in particular give the impression that this endangered, but the slight depth, that produces light suffocation will be their prison. From there you can not understand what he says, and as they go off (it should go on one side and causing intermittent) light will blink on the solitude of onstage. Something like that is lying. The dream of the shadows that are in the imagination, the cracks can have a melancholy or a fear, substances that are available in any memory or any post Liniers, the unexpected kiss everything that has happened the second and does not return, a red line that crosses language and feeding. And awake in the stillness of the afternoon, when the heat is like night, just as inevitable, so everywhere that one can not help but wonder as to where you look there's the damned, around doors and windows, behind the refrigerator and on top of the fruit on the table, getting into sleep, and pulling outward, where the black body pillow looks from a distance, eyes from afar, like hearing a voice drowning in it, from there you look and there dies sleep. Dehydrated and party in the middle of the black body pillow with all the torpor of summer. Something like that is the truth. Full of bodies and sweat, drool and foam sliding down the body, the sheets and jelly and saliva, as rain in the middle of the afternoon of the legs, hallucinations in the forefront of the next second, that it is future a moment and breaks a silence or an air that enters through the window and gets all the questions. and black body frenticamente eating fruits, chewing and dropping to grab another and repeat the act of drooling, biting and let the juice down his neck. body and red under the flashing light, lying on an altar with legs apart, leaning on the shoulder cebeza licks his lips, looking at the rain with their fingers, their skin goes. rattling the bell, beneath the light, under hundreds of looks, the body, the sound of the bell, eyes watching in the dark, light and heat, skin and fruit, all fingers all eyes, and nobody can move, and air dry the juice on the skin, the buzz accompanying the bell, flashing light and suddenly nothing. . .
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