Autor: Anónimo.

La sangre que retumba por las venas resuena en los oídos se devora un jueves.
El viento sopla, carcomiendo metales, oxidando amores.
Chirrian las bisagras, las puertas se abren hacia arriba.
Mi boca es de algodón.
La música fluye entrecortada con gritos de muñecos de madera y las piernas no me dan mis uñas son de plomo.
Con un hilo de saliva colgándole de los labios se tragó el viernes.


Autor: Chiclosah.

Un simple experimento
En la tosca oscuridad
Sólo eso, nunca un sueño
Siquiera una posibilidad

¿Ves? El amor no existe
No sé si me va a llegar
Amigos, familia
Ese no es el tipo de amor que estoy buscando.
Busco la estúpida realidad de mis palabras
Ya que en realidad no creo lo que digo.
Querido ángel de la muerte, ven conmigo.
Llevame de nuevo a la oscuridad
Necesito recuperar fuerzas
Y vengarme de esta maldad.


փKyouka By ~Lséau

In the cold glass of my wet window,
Yet, a dream to be fulfilled is becoming forgotten,
You can't become my own life as I'm doing with yours.

In your promises written in the backwards of your smiles,
I am still watching them provoking me more sadness.

In the drops of this cold winter, the water runs through my
window,
Waving, they just fall onto a vainly sense.

I can't bloom with you in the leech of the summer,
Another love is searching you.
In my own spilled tears at the soil, between the raindrops
you can't distinguish them.

Just to be taciturn paper, In lingering love,
Becoming wet by the rain it tears on the center,
Every word is forbidden to said again.

Circumventing the taciturn just to be found in the sky,
Where it blackens, becoming the far-away blurred dream.

On the futility I am just being delayed,
The day cooled by the frightening wind,
On my own hand broking and vanishing,
I can't perceive because...
I am being deceived by my own heart.

The ashes expanse as we distance.
The only warm I can feel now is my tepid bated breath.

Circumventing the taciturn just to be found in the sky,
Where it blackens, becoming the far-away untouchable dream.

In the drops of this cold winter the water runs through my
window,
Waving, they just fall onto a vainly sense.

Caging my Inward scream.

It's vainly to watch at the mirror without crying,
The teardrops disguised as raindrops tearing the soil.

Onto my own screams of futility,
I died, I lived, I loved.
Turning everything backwards my own past can't be covered
with the rain.
Yet, a dream to be fulfilled is becoming forgotten,
You can't become my own life as I'm doing with yours.



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