I left the world they never explored.
I have composed music.
I have no inspiration.
I feel nothing.
My handwriting is a reflection of my current reality.
fades and you forget who is with the art itself. Tanta
television around, so procastinación online. Such banality
daily, so full is believed eating a vacuum.
was not so sad at which the ashes of sadness was reborn as a musical composition with words taken from deep in the chest of a kid of 19 years.
Sad
be 26 years and not to mourn for nothing, feel nothing that moves you as before.
Sad is not able to tell someone you love, not create or feel to play what you created.
not you know it feels lonely and sad night, when there is no one think and no one to talk.
feel it annoying when I see the world today with an illusion makes you believe that all is well and woke to see the hidden desert as wilderness and only you.
What to watch today? Nothing.
What are you listening to now? Silence.
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