La Casita
In La Casita dads and moms are prominent and little children clitoris whiners who want their toddlers bottle and sick people suppositories that are placed, but not to drain the tears, okay? because anyway there is no way to silence those deep berriditos, but to be more measured, rhythmic and happy. In La Casita, and in children's parties, there is always bubbly and strokes of piñata feel like that someone to dip their face in the cake and frank and grateful smiles, satisfied or being satisfied, shining through the blackness of night never will. This is La Casita: there are the warmth of home and comfort, and the prodigal son, why tell them?, Is greeted with more hoopla in the Bible putísima .
There is a door. Behind the door, a staircase. After a bend, a locker. And there is, after another door and a condom fuckload House in hand, Home, Sweet Home. Thousand rooms, two thousand stairs: go up, down, bend, go to heaven, they sink in the basement of Hell. The love of parents. In the quarter, there are beds, sofas, pastes semen everywhere, children's bunk relentless grind, bathrooms unnecessary because everyone you mea the language. La Familia. Hands in the dark imprison other hand, a whistle, buttocks, wallet, repeated the same need to stop bleeding or uncontrollable urge to not feel alone out there frenéticamene. The very protection of the Uterus. Only here there is no uterus, but a thousand and a million fucking willing to let it return, although you never been there, his bowels open with desperate fingers nerve endings in the ass to go with the whistle to stimuli; They, in turn, will dampen the House with the juices of the body, blatantly cringe, banging their heads against the walls, scratch the walls lime, lime lick the walls, they, in turn, test the quality the resistance of the House while tearing their hair out, you cock swell until it hurts, you lie, you pollute the ground, writhing like a vampire at the stake, the stake will shit, I burst.
If I slip
skillfully for a room with a thousand doors, with an endless stream of thirsty animals that are dripping honey nose skunk and drag a chatty ass says here estooooy making an O with wrinkled lips, a large, rounded to O trembles and is filled with water: I am the oasis, he says, fill yourself with thirst and drink up view, or hide a treasure deep, scratch the bottom, you see, pain, Trash is superadentro, if I put one foot before the other, and address this, the first guess, I can achieve anything in this darkness. Sure, I say, that behind the glow of excitement, of these signs of smoke that rubs passion, this fruition, one foot was braced against the other, and against this, the first, in search of solitude as sincere as mine. J
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