LOVE...
I have the fake with me partner;
Allows me to pretend do not I feel,
Many times smiling, so I lie.
In a theater pretended to it is true
False happiness is spittoon
Ordinary those colors where dyed
The subtle lies. When in absinthe
Intoxicated me, resulting in the full wild beast
Hidden in a last sonnet.
I'm cringing, but commit nice
Such atrocities that I hide ...
In a secret desire lacerating
Point by point, left nothing
Except thy carcass, decomposing...
Marcos Loures
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