Love is a disguised habit of virtue, as one thinks is happily in love until a cause of jealousy feel a visceral hatred for the selfish love that had to the person, is when one realizes that one has attachment to the object of his affection. Is there anything more absurd than jealousy?
not mean that this love is that it has become an addiction, a nasty habit, a vice too human.
Me I love but whether or not your name, if not his vices that hide his voice. I'm attracted to both their perfidious actions, their hypocrisy, their profligacy. Sometimes the beauty is hidden behind masks to avoid being eaten dire. You can find beauty in the most vulgar.
The boy is in love, now forget, if you do not want to reappear human traits in his face and drown in the most absurd feelings. The child was entrusted, and he thought I will have to happen, but it is too late, when the blood boils consciousness evaporates and the lessons are forgotten and there has started to return.
release impatiently wanted, but still attached to the body, not by foreign chains but the chains of my own passions. The enemy took possession of my will and made me shackles preventing any movement. Because of the desire born of lust and lust born of habit, a habit that I can not resist. Has created in me a kind of needs whose links attached to one another kept me in a cruel and latent slavery.
Night comes, blood begins to boil, a Sucubus appears, his face is your name. Then Sucubus Take my hand, puts about desire. Begins to move restlessly, until they can do more, is poured around thick ivory. It seems that the sucubus is gone, but has quietly hidden.
Raziel Tovar
September 13, 2008
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