I looking for a woman who has the stature of my hope or taste just of my forgetfulness. Someone who does not consecrate other altars but to the Trinity of desires: love – a heart open as a showcase that nobody already observed-, knowledge – look at the seams of any truth and feel the stitches with which the intelligence suture his universe – and freedom – crawling on the hot sand and broken wings.
II. I'm looking for a woman with sensuality outboard and giddiness wrought in the Palm of your hands. Or very early to the consummation or very reluctant to nudity, amateur soul adventures inside and with – inexhaustible in the exuberance of his Virgin fantasies – deep eyes that I invite exploring its labyrinthine paths.
III. I am looking for a woman with their backs to the society, and lying body. A lady that are discover skin both in each hemisphere of the brain, and to recognize female with the same conviction that endangers some flames, fire, to consume all of a candle, or the final stretch of a candle.
IV. I seek a woman without false hopes or fears shipwrecked on misunderstandings, only with the faith useless know is still young and hungry – hungry for longer than the anguish, deeper than death and more, much more intense nights delivered to the ravings of the sex.
V. seeking a woman aside from any certainty – thousand doubts springing up from the bottom of his bones, but with the will exercised against the violence of being alone, as the bull to the layer and in the middle of the ring. That does not require other security but can redeem itself by the paths of constant craving of the revolver between the sheets to discover it whole, accompanied: occupying both halves of his bed.
VI. I offer an almost miserable corner of the universe where there is a tree of words and up to the time of sterile fruit. The infamous signs of silence are transformed into a suitable place for the skin and, though hopeless, desire requires a small margin of perpetuity to be the incarnation of a gale of dreams.
VII. I offer to build a nest in the memory to bring warmth to the minutes, protected by a prodigious hand caresses and fed with more nutritious membranes of longing, they achieve adulthood and they will be transformed into a dense flock of memories.
VIII. I offer more than useless passion, but perhaps less than what my memory takes to the flow of moments. I have blood on youth and women-filled eyelids reverse – as a collector could fill an infinite number of showcases-butterflies, but I also have the thirst that calls me a body.
IX. I offer a possibility of completion that is not exhausted with the sweat between the sheets and lust extending roots over the bed. The religion of the meat does not ask offerings only at the altar of sex, because between the two ends of the night sensuality has given me rituals where you experience more mysticism to heat of any sect, and more Bliss than in the middle of a temple
X I offer the complicity of a delivery instituted as a crime without witnesses or redemption, but also no masks or hopes for an uncertain future. An offering to the idols of the perennial transience, where the safety of the transitory is a portal for stepping on the eternal.
