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antonio-fonseca
antonio-fonseca
I think of myself as an intelligent, sensitive man who's a reader before a writer. I believe everyone has a story to be told and all they want is for someone to listen. Therefore I'm a reader with missing assignments.
Breeze dances me around caressing, it takes me. Farther, yet come. But it's whistling is strong That young man's croon where played pain away. Why don't I stray then? flew into the farther... ...November.
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Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 9:20 PM UTC
Evening
Nights breath, wrap me all around your haze. Lacking of light, evening voice, sobbing. Song of a siren stranded on a million stars, tear me up, bruise up my mind with the rustling wind of your laughter, conspiring and swarming from yesteryear. Silence manifestation, may your voice enslave me, burst of sensations and halfway felt sentiment. Invigorating tonic that emerges on my skin by your lips virtue.
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Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC
Alejandra
Life is a gift, both, over friendly and unwanted. How could it not be? Outcome of supposed love, nothing more than selfishness hidden behind a mask.
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Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
Moment by the window.
Seagulls on the beach along them chanting, I exist. A mountain overlap on slaying deranged. Mind-blown, portrait of yore. Sweet Belfast; Antique, unique, ambiguous, get obscene, now!
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Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 6:59 PM UTC
Belfast
Lon, lon, lon Disdain emerges and clings up to my eyes. Lon, lon,lon I stop and mumble, rainbow and sunrise. Lon, lon, lon How words can break, they crumble lon, lon, lon I abstain of sorrow, I **** to stay humble. Lon, lon...longer I sing a song and I tumble, slighty used, nights I borrow. Lon, lon, lon And on I ramble, September is almost gone.
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Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 2:55 PM UTC
September is almost gone
Naked eye, silent sorrounded heart. what's that sound? elderly and ancient crown from a spirit beyond recognition. a vast dark room comfortable crouching, no hope, no light, yet he takes a glance into my soul. Naked eye, he sees through me directly to my soul his silence seems to claim; "poor pretentious soldier", "come home", "come home"...
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Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 1:03 AM UTC
Naked eye.
...uneven, not balanced. I live. ...uneven, not certain. I exist. Serene, I've calmed seas of desperation. I've mantained a clear, static vision. I've promulged a large derrain of the senses to obtain the unknown. ...uneven, nor happy, nor sad. In my deepest inner mind. ...uneven, I sustain. and in the mind of others, I exist... ...uneven, I know, I can. I am.
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Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 1:01 AM UTC
Uneven
Anxious-laughter afternoon moonlight shadow is still very vague, a long-silent mourn, quiet sorroundings. Pale-Blue sky, overlaping highly with a vast mantle of clouds. Pale-blue sky, inflaming my temperament with your mournful sounds. Crystal, moment of sweet delight. Languidly, as I smile, I see her take off.
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Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 12:56 AM UTC
Pale-Blue Sky