Eaten by

Work in progress

it’s midnight, the time when the angry lady who lives inside you starts to scream. She won’t tolerate your bullshit anymore. What are you doing with your life? Why can’t you move? How did you immerse yourself in this sea of ignorance?

Dozens of muscles that need to be moved; but never is going to be enough. Stepping on each other's head; no matter what is needed, just be the first or strongest. Hairs that can’t stop growing in your whole surface; Pain in the arse Always proves yourself, make it clear. And don’t forget…. be smart

What have you learned from all the boys you’ve kissed?

What kind of knowledge can you get from touching other bodies?

And it was then when you realized that it doesn’t matter where your lips are placed, you were only licking the surface because the inner taste of guys is beyond your reach. It was just the flavor of the first layer, and probably you were unable to scratch that layer. So, he is going to forget your name and your conversation, and all your work is going to become a vague memory or a vain anecdote. Soon, he is going to start the cycle to be tested again, but this time with someone who makes a better effort. In the meantime, in your head, his figure will turn more abstract, like when you were looking at him in the dark, a profile merging with the shadows, more obscure, less approachable, a short story that stays with you like the taste of ashes.