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As túas balas » Blog Archive » naufraxio

12Uvas cada vez comparte máis minutos comigo. É moi divertido, e non tería blos pra contar todo o que me di que resulta verdadeiramente pavero. Apréndeme unha palabra máis, focotexo, que é ao que cheira algo que fede profundamente. Dixo que As Burgas cheiraban a focotexo; prescindiremos dese apuntamento.
Coñecinlle ao pai, coñecinlle aos amigos, faloume do seu vespino, dun rollo que tivo cun hetero no traballo (calai ese marmurio), e esta mañá mencionamos por primeira vez o ‘noso’. Dixo dúas palabras, chantaxe e límites, ás que agora regreso e por máis que busco non lles vexo conexión. Fíxose silencio, e pausa pra seguir falando, noutro día.
Sinto a lama do pantano ata as coxas. É posíbel moverse sen avanzar? e sen afundir?


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