Pregnant And Smelly Urine

THE FIELD OF DREAMS - by marcelmaina

Fear and hope

wandering stuck in your pain

running through the night without shelter. Hunde

your shoulder

to the ground,

barely seed

waiting,

as children expect

sung the arms of sleep.

Dream,

bites,

rises,

fears

if it is dreaming, dreaming

as you can.

Pena

your flesh and my eyes,

two sparks apologizing

where night falls no longer

day breaks and celebrations.

Tremble,

boasts,

begs, shakes

light

early stage,

end that never comes,

penalty

.

And I am in you,

in the game never lost

with the first and last breath.

'm in you,

in the footprint of your chest,

in saliva that soul through me.

I hope

night calm

slippage

as a blind man without a foothold,

no other eyes than those lost.

I lean,

dream

hurt everything,

dream.

My veins are grooves that violate life.

Sleep

time takes me away,

dream.

On the edge of life,

with my grief without a net,

I just sleep.

England Baby Cricket Shirt

EMPTY - by marcelmaina

The end of the year, as many moments of our lives have some flavor vacuum. Some things are completed, others are closed, others come and may not return, some may be and we can see just from this absence will know how far extended.

With the air of the year-end inventory reminds us especially the finiteness of all, the near distant and absent with without warning, we wish they were, the lost feelings, dreams expired, the eternally frustrated projects, inventions that we would be saved. And with such joy that it slides very sincere unpalatable taste of the end of the year. Maybe try to embrace all those gaps, to find a possible way to understand that's what life is all about, spending, living here and now deeply valuable to share and to fill gaps in child's play.

After all, despite our tomorrow is another day.

Small Patches Of Bumps On Baby Stomach

YEAR SEA BOTTLE

been a year in this, another space for expression, the instinctive need to be something in our fleeting passage through life. Illusory sense of eternity. It's been a year of design itself, lost in the cibermar to come out of nowhere and become almost anything. Stranded, we hold in ways that may accompany the pain. And smile as exorcising evil and hardship preparing for a new year in a world increasingly old and uneventful. Some think that nothing was as before, and that nostalgia only confirms that it is impossible to return, no longer be the same. And so modern that indefinite progress shows rags. If there is a new, hard to see. And so, between the old idealized missed and almost unrecognizable buried and the future, we sailed. Rather wrecked. Inventing tables, sending messages to someone, from somewhere, share our loneliness. Insecure, fearful, unhappy, anxious, anxious, violent and hard on who to blame. But there are always other hand to simplify the cause of our suffering. Will must learn to play like we said Grace Scheiner? Running the rubble, build a gap and re-build, until further notice. From what has already been, and still can not be played. Perhaps the play genesis of artistic creation is the truest lie. Against everything they think important eternal lords, everything passes and nothing remains. For those who believe it, for those who leave their lives for power, success, sickly consumption and shoot their exotic travel, everything inevitably corrupts. It's just play better with others. With others, not for others. And feel at times that is worth now and this freedom. It's just play, just play. In this case, throwing bottles into the sea. HAPPY 2010!