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Breaking rainbow

Dreams of freedom bought with a price of gold,

wring their ideas at every step when you advertise your dreams.
Anger and disgust when selling ideas, when they die daily.

bought encantadx your fight and you accepted, you believed that TV while the money freed, his faithful companion stabbed you mop.

is time to revolt against the rainbow, it's time to break dogmas of artifice, chains, makeup and light bulbs.

masquerade back to the streets. They kiss mustache and breasts, humiliates the poor, the foul and the awkward cat. That struggle is a lie, the chains that released the guards of your hands you put them, secretly, at the ankles. I gave a pass to heaven and I forgot that this was not the dream. I egoism blinds the sight and smell, the coaches of your pride oozing stench wad of cash.

Now you're just the enemy

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tzarowski @ 2007-06-22T01: 27:00

What love hiding ...
results diyourself

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tzarowski @ 2007-06-18T10: 37:00

Walk, tremendx impatient.
walks with firm step forward.

Walk mad fervor and passions.
walks and embraces the kind of Anarchist stroke death.

Your firm steps, tremendous
your words, your eyes
nothing aggressive delivery.

Go out, anarchist,
defeat the tears of misery.

Streets empty
idiots minds and our fists together against the chains.

Solidarity

eternal
open mind,
flaming barricades in the smoke.

evening was awake, crying
walls,
roar Anarchist gorges meet.

Tomorrow does not matter,
tomorrow is now, the future is present
defeating luck.

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dolls my sister

I got older, like all the comrades.

dolls and spent my teenage sister.

became a junkie, another whore and the other is still single.

no longer let them go to supermarkets where they were born, where my parents bought them January 1st royal dresses any magic. Dolls grew older my sister and all my cars go and in junkyards, dilapidated.

nuestrxs muñecxs ever came to life, were poderosoxs and left.

My entierron come those warrior dolls a thousand times that amputated arms and legs. And come to my grave, but not for me, but because my sister come with her dolls.

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He brushed the crumbs off sitting still, before claiming the second course.
- And the beans? Where are the beans?
Her husband left her soup and half on the plate while still cold and swallowed the liquid is raised by the damn beans.
not giving anything intereante on television, but she looked rapt.
chickpeas on the table.
- are hard. She scolded.
- Sorry. They had been two hours cooking.
- For the next three. Bring the oil.
oil on the table.

This galled him insolent slave existence. Her companion was not, or so he said, not much less sexist autoritariani curmudgeon. Out of doors was all understanding and good manners. Long ago abandoned the love of reading, the cinema, sex ...
readings, the TV guide.
The film, a western unfinished.
sex, smelling of whiskey.

Got rid of it as patiently as he could. Who cares that the beans were hard if there were seasoned with cyanide? She walks slowly

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West you shalt

or course. In between the lines that skirt is losing a chick gave in hopeful meter alone touching your skin. The streets of the Court are the place, smiling and without glasses. The size of herself at sixteen and relentless experience gave thirty. Just do not look in the eyes of the people, we look at the thoughts that they escape through the pupil and the first will "cove." No time for anyone to pay for a drink in a den or Malasaña Vallecas, no space for boring sex under his sheets.
is now over and she is. And no eye contact until they share the third coffee, but most tires with two.

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pink skirt tzarowski @ 2007-03-19T13: 00:00

Blood, anger, dreams of fire that I marked in my heart.

The immigration bureaucrat leads a outside hopes deaf ears. Aseptic windows, a thousand times tampered passport. Do not get away with it in your papers do not fit the roads to wear our shoes.

Clear Discharge Before Period

tzarowski @ 2007-03-12T15: 07:00

- To you, restless, always filling up your bags and helping to dust mine that will go away with memories of your looks.

way ticket across the Atlantic.
The earth is nothing, the sea was filled with the salt tears aquellxs who left no will own the land they grew up. And come the waves that were born in Montevideo the coast of Galicia, and you and I look the same horizon, the same moon, the sun itself not hot enough while you're not.

miles of hope, dreams and illusions
(as always) that the city

not be silent under the roar of a hundred thousand other (this time).

I leave and come back.
I will leave the way back to yesterday morning and full of smiles. The tears they fall on my return to Madriz must be tremendous, powerful. Mark the asphalt. My boots
'll shut the mouths of those who set the course. The road is to walk. Walking is fighting for life with no destination.

You stay dead, Madriz. The streetlights do not prevent the decay of your existence. Malasaña is no rat's nest or by Huertas letters fall out of windows.

way ticket.