Welcome Message For The Groom

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I want to never be born, reborn still often when the rains break the stars of heaven forever. It's a beautiful agony as the man who wants to be, expressing all the will he can, talking to himself in secret his sweet artificial language ...

I once believed the soul, that which lies beyond the image of plastic and concrete under my skin is agitated, pulling the entrails of a whole generation during major depression in the world . I once believed in love, for a second when he got up from any his imposing figure, frail, sickly, so undermined ... And he told me! Love said:

"What am I? See what men have made me a moor full of putrid flesh and vanities!"

I cried for the Mozart Requiem. Love has played well for me. He said then he left, fled as the wind whistles in your ear or the omen the omen of the turn. Then I lifted my turn to him and cried because it was too far away to hear me whisper, whisper it, because it is a regular address to the Love and I shouted to the angel beat and I told Love:

"Look what you've done men! A forest of lost souls, wandering in hopeless maze that is the heart of the universe endowed with spirit! Love, Thou who slays the darkness of your infinite goodness, would not you also the one who went to bed one night at my bedside, harmless, for better hang myself when my weapon went mistrust? Love! Do you was what I drank my blood precious by ten, hundred, thousand times? Love is in my kind that I am sending you these words, Thou who art only fatalities, little deaths and immense despair, you, who we nausea scales up, we change yourself first, you better recognize! We were stupid enough to deceive us about your multiple accounts, but you've made the mistake we did not light up! "

And as it touched the howl of rage Love in its midst, he came by my window, looked at me and decided, anger deprive me of it all right to love and be loved. He invoked the strongest forces in which one can think here, then, profoundly shocked, he returned to other horizons.

Until that day in September, I had loved the truth. What can I tell if I like today? In any case, I I feel appreciated. And love it still sees offended because his grip on my heart is no longer - the butterflies fall, stiff as soon as they cross the boundaries of my will - I have overcome the Love! I do not like if I do say love.

And Love has only to wither again, I am sharing what I refuse his blessing as his futile passions.