Immobile drops that flee from scattering, from silence they hang

 And even. In the with you In the you Me Te the . Afraid of losing you. Like the evil of others that is not lost. The more time, the more. Although it is not spoken for modesty. Like now you although I don't know if. How do you talk with your feet? The feet keep talking. cccon. With the kisses on her lips. Feet die from kisses. That being "little baby" or little baby they were not received. To that loneliness with legs in the air. Still unknown. Rattles without music, monochrome. His music when it rains. On the slopes of the roofs it always rains. Motionless drops that flee from spreading. They fall motionless as the memory. From the silence they hang. It is your loneliness. They come like that, like nothing. Like something that sinks. It can be seen coming in the distance like a simple corroded trunk. It floats like a little boat, a sailboat without a crew.

Autobiographies. Write en miroir. Palimpseste sur painting. Mirror Sub-Irrealism. Random intratextuality.