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Oct 2017
It's not related with being blazed, I swear
It's just the effect of homemade breakfast and inhalete its fragance
And hear the sizzle of the rain moaning through the window
It's the tender touch of my finger tips on the cat's ribs
The little holes on my socks where my feet breath
ItΒ΄s the blood coming out from where I'd cut my nails too deep
The cobwebs shinning on the lamps
And the connivance with the ants and lizards in my room
It's the effect of laying on a bed of fresh sheets
Or surrender to the light of an insipid movie
It's rise my gaze at the glowing dampness of my ceiling  
It's my house entering by my arteries and filling my rhyme's saturated ventricles
It's the vampire of the time & memory & mirrors & white rabbits & multicolor smiles of a tired sun
It's feel laughs in the silence and love in melancholia
By tomorrow I'll get out of my daily routine, IΒ΄d hope come back alive
Aquiles Rangel
Written by
Aquiles Rangel  21/M/Center of the room
(21/M/Center of the room)   
  339
   ---, --- and Isabelle
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