José Jaime Valencia

when my hands try its harder to give love, they can only create storms...

the fire in my eyes will never disappear, like a volcano that never dies;

when the peace, when the calm and the beauty seems to finally establish on me, the best thing i can do is to erupt! ...to destroy! ...to hurt! ...to burn and kill!

how could I be supposed to complete  a dream, when i destroy it by myself when it has not even started??

everything would be easier if i could only disappear... fading in the fog of any memory i left with my unnecessary life...

the useless memories of me...

the painful memories of me...

the destructive memories of me...

the pointless memories of me...

the disappointing memories of me...

i am nothing... just a bad characterization of sadness, loneliness, and grayish pretension...

fake...

nothing...

emptiness...

pain...

the deception of any hope...

the worst end of any dream...

the destruction of any illusion...

the best end for my destructive fire is to drawn in the cold darkness of the oceans,

to disappear... alone... in silence... forever... the only forever i deserve...