Sunday, April 10, 2011

Images Color Chart For Sissons Paints

No more love bitch ended up not fill

has heard so much hell, so often tried to imagine there ugly and scary, closing his eyes and trying to see it in his mind, but every single time, all you see is the face of each and every one of the people who have lost a bit of soul, faces of the people who did nothing to help, to protect and can not believe that after death there is something worse than this.

Something worse than the beatings,
as neglect
men who have taken advantage of it?
Is there anything worse?
Worse?
can not believe it.
Maybe it's the number of pills floating in his veins,
or the amount of whiskey which has helped them go down the throat;
but can not believe it.

trips over something, the echo resounds in the empty house, empty
,
dark
dark, lonely
.
but fears the light will be reflected in a treacherous surface.
is accompanied by another glass of whiskey and tries andar por el pasillo pero tiene miedo de los monstruos que acechan en las esquinas.
Se viste,
o tal vez,
se desviste,
se maquilla pero el pulso le falla y el contorno de los labios se vuelve una línea vacilante,
los párpados demasiado oscuros,
como el miedo de su alma,
el colorete demasiado alegre,
como la sonrisa falsa que ensayaría si tuviese valor de mirarse al espejo.
Se calza unos tacones y coje el ascensor.
En the street for a taxi and laughs in the back seat.
If I were a man would be taking a taxi to go to whores.
But she
it
it
take a taxi to be the bitch tonight.

repeated twice taxi driver the address, the stare, but takes it to its destination.

Low cab, grabs the door and laugh again.
straightening, hair is removed and turned face.
The street in front of her mouths full of brightly lit engulfed want just a matter of choosing which one.
Go through the cobblestone street, is about to lose his balance several times and finally stumbles and falls, it hurts the knees bare, but nothing hurts, get up and choose a bar of red lights.

Log in and check out, they look at women, men, choose a seat at the bar and sits down, asks for a whiskey and starts to drink while you decide which of these will go bed.

A few minutes about a man and throwing his breath in his face asking how much.
How?
She looks up and realizes he does not know what to say. Tour
face, seeking help from the girl next to him, but this one looks down.
It happens the same with all local women, who look with hostility.
As it is decided, the man turns around and leaves.
There is something odd in that girl.
She tries to get up and follow him, because tonight,
is a bitch
not
is the whore,
whore they all told him it was,
family members,
brought friends,
man more when she was so young,
her first boyfriend,
whore who knows that is
have so often said,
so it made sense ,
many have been treated as such
many have used their body without their consent.

But today, today is different today
has gotten into a bar whores,
a bar of cheap hookers,
like her
the street whores,
in the neighborhood outcasts,
in the world that has always belonged,
but now sleep between silk sheets,
and drink wine expensive
and discuss classical music and works of painters cursed,
that world where only is a faker,
rich man's whore.

Tonight is different,
that will charge for what it is,
tonight is going to launch into the arms of his destiny.

But then, just in front of you see it.
A girl of just 20, bad makeup, wearing a dress too short and too much heel shoes.
sees her and rises,
travels over the surface of the mirror with his trembling fingers,
tried to pull away the hair from her face,
caresses her cheek and looks
long while stroking her reflection.

is not just a girl
the girl who was
which
stole that destroyed
and then realizes
Mascara tears run down the euphoria
too rosy rouge
the lips too red
of the eyelids too black
and think with a wry smile in the mouth
yes,
tonight like a whore,
finally
but a whore sad.
Who would this happen tonight
with the poor sad bitch.

Limp your bag and walk to the exit
reaches a main road and raise your hand to hail a taxi.
taxis pass but do not stop
placed in context
dressed like drunken
who would take tonight.

Go the way with their high heels,
which was bought to go to the Opera
and after much
much
much time,
comes home empty
gets in the shower,
removes makeup
and snuggles between the faces white sheets.

Tomorrow will again be the young lover
important man and no one will ever know
that despite everything he said,
for whore
no good either.

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