kcab
back
so
bad
i
want
twan.
‘tis
a
longing.
beyond
the
carnal
i
feel
a
throe
eorht,
i hear you.
i
sense
it.
everything
in
me
says that :
go back.
but
isn’t
that
which
i always
inevitablemente
end
up
doing
anyways?
the mistery
of which
Paz
bespoke of?
*Octavio Paz, Laberinto de la Soledad