Abandon

This woman gnaws me, where are you? What are you doing? I'm alone to battle against the devouring spectre of my muse so implicitly haughty. Help me! Help me! The cry of a dying heart; How much i will enjoy to enucleate this organ, wooden symbol of the most valued feeling of human kind. Wrongly i will bleed, this chronic suffering who fills me and leaves me since almost one year, as the undertow each day eroding a bit more of my stony being. Under the effect of a thought, an abstract vision of her, i shudder and crease like a paper thrown in a basket; As the blood she is vital, runing under my skin, abhoring the hours without her. Like a pet whose every women can turn a man, i will tear Hell for her, i will blow the clouds against my will and will instore a new oasis on this earth grained by the bombs.