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Resignation

is a word that I banished from my vocabulary, my world.
This word does not exist and is replaced by acceptance.
no illusions: this acceptance is difficult to tame. It is crying in the dark. This is not work on itself, nor the fact of habit, and it is something much stronger, and more strange, that it should take a long road, a dark corridor, dimly lighted, and leave behind a few small things. Drop these things in your pocket. By losing, we must say they have been forgotten. It's like that, they were dropped, they were forgotten.
Try not to go back because you can not remember exactly which door it took. Was it the left, the right one, the middle perhaps? We balance between the three, rocking on his toes like a boat. That thorny road that leads to destruction if we are not careful. The excitement is painful and the choice is mandatory.
When we take the left door, you realize that he had better take the right one, and as the flashback is over really possible, it is permanently lost. There are only two options: crying and crying for hours, sitting in a corner and say that since everything is lost, all stop there and wait, sitting like a poor sad doll, or , be violent, slap violently, and say they will not cut down too quickly, and they bravely take over the road, bleeding feet on the warm sand of the desert. This time it will take the right door, even if it meant taking the middle one. And we have the right to cry. And there will even be obliged to weep, or duty. Something like that. Something that has a name, but we do not know which one. Tears should
be the one offering to the dead, whoever they are, and especially not to make offerings to the dead, death of the soul and heart, and desire. Do not apologize to live then, even if love deserves death even if death is a gaping hole, a scar never healed, but the hole is filled and the scar does not heal. There will envy, after a moment, in the third or fourth loss, because you never get used, to finally let go, let sail, to give up. Anticipation is the worst, most painful. But the future does not exist, until, like Achilles, a decision that our death will be more important than our lives.
Or maybe, probably, already.
Above all, never, never say " take my heart and take my breath, and take my muscles, and take my bones I is not got no use .

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The idea is approximate Worst

Rather than smoking cigarette on cigarette, I find the path of poetry to change the spleen in multicolored butterflies and too bad if the moth dies soon, another will take its place.
Sometimes it's all a matter of patience.

A teddy bear, brown faded on the corner of the pink bed.
I finally feel much in common with this plush threadbare. If I bear, I put out a costume for this excess, giant teddy bear version, so we better see how I am, the scream, and really do not see me for that, but for they see me better, even if I dream mouse to move between the cracks of any kind.
Find a seamstress that can create me an outfit of wolf or bear, just fluffy that I'm dying of heat below, in full sun, and I remember the heat bothers me.
I go out the hand of the mitten brown and threadbare and I'll tend just to say hello, and when you go back and tighten it, you will reduce the moisture one step, with a grimace of disgust. People do not like the humidity. The good people hide behind this disgust a nice healthy smile but their thoughts are like soap bubbles that could burst at needle-pricks.

Earlier, you I do not know, you told me you hesitated, you hesitated between two options in the perception you had of me, and you're asked if I was a engineering missed or retarded teenager, and you wonder if I'm not saying certain things on purpose because finally, I am perhaps masochistic, e maybe I like the danger, or perhaps that I I love you spits.
I sew my life as a thousand skits absurd and sad, and terrible, and especially terrible, the terrible, I still want more, then that scares me, and really scared.
And someone so ridiculously proud of myself that does not admit these things. But the fear is perhaps what one seeks, in the depths of us. Perhaps by attending the fear, it tames it and maybe then we will have less fear. Do not serve target. Against terror, feet in the mud.
And I answered you with that smile of retarded teenager, my child's smile that you do not guess, you had to choose the second option, and I answered that you'd better to remember that nothing lasts forever, except ideas, because love thy neighbor, love for your companion, your companion, will wither as and when, and your friends will eventually t ' forget, and your parents love you because it's like that, and what matters is the ideas, because a good and beautiful idea lasts well over two seconds. The
moment. The rest is a memory in the memory.
Have I ever said I did not want a pretty lace and pretty pearls? Me, I want this slaughtered animal whose remains smokes. An animal slaughtered and sacrificial lamb, so that someone up there, where it is, the Father Creator or Pan gives me panic, forgive me for ever to have destroyed the dawn. The first dawn of my life.
I am preparing for the worst smile if ever I'm wrong, I am preparing for the worst.
Always rub with fear, and worse. And even if you bleed so much that we abandon all our strength.
That's how it should be. Always. It should always bleed, and be in constant pain. As the nun in purgatory.