Spaceship

I've felt this before. I'm tired of this situations, but I've felt this kind of confusion. It's exhausting. I'm sick of the sadness, the reflexive moments, the lost period, the stupid things and ridiculous consequences because I'm always too far away. I don't want to be saved, but I don't want to be lost. I'm tired of the drama. I just want to go, find a place, feel the sun... I don't want to feel this over and over again. I don't want to get lost. I don't want drugs, I don't want pain, I don't want sex, nothing will be able to heal this. The cure should be much more straightforward. The cure should not be avoidance. The cure neither is someone else. Every situation has lived inside my head and made the person who I'm now, but it's difficult to accept that. I've made of pain and blood. I'm just the remnants of what I wanted to be, but the remnants are still there. I don't want to be the result of this moments, ...

My mind is blocked when I'm writing a word on you. There's no reason, no bad feeling, no pain, but I know the appropriation is mine. Your memories are mine; I don't want even share them with my writing. The memories of you are apart from the world; they are far away. They don't live in the fire, and the passion of handwriting but they live there, enough, permanent. I know, however, you're made of all of the elements. The fire lives on you but is calm and shiny, comforting, balanced. I've been heating by those flames so many times that I got used to getting burned. I'm used to your water also. Patient and infinite, wise and eternal. Full of life but wild and destructive. I've been drinking for a long time but I'm always thirsty.  I've also seen the passion, and the wild wind, but I'd better like to remember the soft touch of your hands in my hands. You are the elements together, and the perfection of someone I've renounced and I'm not ...

He despertado con la misma ansiedad de cada mes.  Atrapado en la misma botella. Estoy cubierto, estoy desnudo, no importa. Conozco ahora la rutina sobrevivir a lo que hay afuera, aunque nunca vaya a salir. No hay diferencia o distancia, cuan grande o pequeño sea el camino. Sigo siendo un momento, una señal, un punto. Le he ganado al tiempo y me muevo despacio. Despertar al alma sería imperdonable, pero hago el suficiente ruido para que sepa que sigo siendo yo. Sólo por hoy en un momento, en un señal en un punto. Sigo siendo yo. Un mono blanco en la nieve  

I don't know... But missing you should be a consequence of free time.  It's not your eyes shining all over the place, definitely not the way you look at me.  It's not your fantastic long hair or that malicious smile that hide those juicy and exotic lips.  It's not all of that.  It's not the way you say come on!  Nor the argument you always have.  It's neither you're unyielding nor the shy and tender girl that lives behind.  It's not your bully or the frightening hugs you have; it's not the form of your nose.  It's maybe I'm free now, and I suffer from Stockholm's.  =) this is not that old