walk with their eyes on the breasts of the woman who took off his jacket, the shape of the blouse suggested sex until the dawn of a hot day, beer, hiking and withers in the abdomen feeling, not having the courage to dive into them.
looking back that I climb stairs gladly lick the skirts, ripped nylons, office women in uniform, all for me, legs that would tighten joyful. As I cross the street, forget the traffic that can be lethal, but not so strange eyes and crystal pleasure that I call, I call for a bed, a pasture, a bathroom, a light, in which it can take a break from monotony by declaring a halt to love and give me the monster that inhabits wet and hot between the legs of them pink feverish, I cry, I asked for more.
not disguise my intentions, blows and slaps do not wait, cries the companion who walks with me, who does not live and is unrelated to my fantasies of the street. CAMILO ANDRES
