En el presente, en el futuro invisible, en su tremendo gemido, en el dolor que rompe, da vueltas sordas el mundo. Y te quiero decir que a veces me falta aire, me falta camino... desastre. Es miedo? Es voz sanguinolienta? Los dientes rotos, la ruina. El ahogo ascendente. La sangre viva. Oscilan tus cabellos en mi boca.
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