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The Liefe Aquatic with Steve Zissou

Fun

No more nothing, no thank you, still loiving here you faraway so close.
Can´t speak i´m me but not willing, not happening.
Not porn, doesen´t satisfactio "Nothing".
desperado venom post mortem.

La habilidad de ser uno mismo

No hay inspiración, evreything is a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy of a copi of a copi of a copi of acopi ova copi offa copy of a coffe and cigarettes of a copi frrooom another copy.

No es que lo presuma pero una parte de mí es como Bukowski en sus fantasías showerianas:


we like to shower afterwards
(I like the water hotter than she)
and her face is always soft and peaceful
and she'll watch me first
spread the soap over my balls
lift the balls
squeeze them,
then wash the cock:
"hey, this thing is still hard!"
then get all the hair down there,-
the belly, the back, the neck, the legs,
I grin grin grin,
and then I wash her. . .
first the cunt, I
stand behind her, my cock in the cheeks of her ass
I gently soap up the cunt hairs,
wash there with a soothing motion,
I linger perhaps longer than necessary,
then I get the backs of the legs, the ass,
the back, the neck, I turn her, kiss her,
soap up the breasts, get them and the belly, the neck,
the fronts of the legs, the ankles, the feet,
and then the cunt, once more, for luck. . .
another kiss, and she gets out first,
toweling, sometimes singing while I stay in
turn the water on hotter
feeling the good times of love's miracle
I then get out. . .
it is usually mid-afternoon and quiet,
and getting dressed we talk about what else
there might be to do,
but being together solves most of it
for as long as those things stay solved
in the history of women and
man, it's different for each-
for me, it's splendid enough to remember
past the memories of pain and defeat and unhappiness:
when you take it away
do it slowly and easily
make it as if I were dying in my sleep instead of in
my life, amen.

jajaja

Aquí

Lo siento, pero no me pidas que esté alegre todos los días. De querer quiero pero no puedo porque no puedo. Hay días en los que pienso, otros vivo, lloro, muero y revivo. Luego sigo en el vacío.

No es que no sonría, es que estoy quieto. Estoy parado y no lo siento. A lado del río o de de espalda al viento. No lo siento.