After realising that, what a shity day was there..

so... after this combustive smell from the guts, and that even don´t come from myself, I realise that this day had this typical waving moment, from the shore there was no fisherman trying to catch up a falling soul...so back then I open my mouth to scream and no sound came out, "steronulo" I was. I feel the stream of spring coming very slow, bitter like fall is this the beginning of the end?
Still in this motor flower crossed moment of soul appeal, the flux of undefined words traces the smell engine of the traffic, die verkehr ist keinen lösung, more white fluidness in days dreaming, its not warm when she is away. Somehow I don´t know where to place this futuristic fanaticism of living plan, abroad from homeland always going find the beauty of a cloud above or an under sheet of water. Not only in dead sad borders of the thoughts but also in the refreshment of a juicy kiss, the braking point will not wait if somehow the existence of the smashing ants hint no peoples heads, however there is, es gibt, understanding how babies can so well speak with the eyes, and we carry this loving feeling through the creation of self reality, no complex pre-sensations of brain framing of the emotional effort, is only one body.