Thursday, December 10, 2009

Can I Use A At&t Broadband With My Cell Phone

Mama Who Killed Me?

Romina's daughter

wanted to lend me the chubby and jump rope together, deliver the prints of the first communion, walking down the ravine to the school, run his fingers through the curls of the vicuña and tickle us.

I had to navigate with unwanted chopping in a wet cardboard boat sewage without tides. Not the white drawer innocent death, that is reserved for those who do things like god.
Some cry at the first breath, I could not mourn the contempt of your knife into my flesh.
I can not stand to see you sad, contained in the bars that crisscross index fingers, ready to draw your belly darkened. Fingers written on your forehead "aggravated by the link." That point, neat, neat skin, skin that feels, that does not interfere. Blind as a teacher that taught you to defend yourself, and you said that the penis and vagina are the same when they choose. That there is weak or strong sex or good name or image to load. You're no easy life, because life is not easy.
do not want you gone like the white nurses illegal forceps.
does not traverse the dark purgatory. Dark as the fat priests absolve you as to declaim absolute certainty that my soul has entered into your body sperm violent blows. A parent beats a liar, father unpunished for lack of evidence. Which does not, the enjoyment of non-consensual. That do not contribute to keep your privacy scrapped in twelve hundred folios without a holy word.
not look deceitful light of the candle that lit the blanket Sunday ladies who pay first row of the theater heaven.
not need this limbo of eternal hopscotch, drawn on the floor of the waiting room. With his hand still throwing angels bland to the sixth house, condemned to be free. Turned noses against the gates of heaven are blurred chalk when I walk.
And it happened or I stay. Mum

I apologize forever, because if you do I will be born ... and dying ...
always

Is It Ok To Give My 3 Month Old Baby Anbesol?

The holy and leg


Dedicated to AnaGyS

was not his first fall. If you could even tell his life using as knots to falls. Amalia always got up and came out stronger. His muscles were strong, as is its restraint. Attributed his habit of kissing the dust to his right leg. She, right, decided his own without listening to the rest north. Whenever
chores Amalia allowed it dreaming, I loved more than anything, dare. Was shocked with a hug intense, with the chiaroscuro of the forest and melodies subtle. So I thought no ill wind that blows no good, perhaps served him his anchor leg.
remembered well that first time. That he walked down the path, knowing that he would go there. He thought of his lips and in her, touching her members strong in manly eyebrows dark eyes peering eyes. They were going to cross and the word may lead him ... but he fell. Remember also how they put the red-eared and deaf, and as he escaped in a blind gallop. For the love that surrounds them were not an aura of "all the glory possible." A glory simple, everyday felt he had lost.
The leg was fixed itinerary, led the dances of marriageable age, made her a "yes" reluctantly, took two steps and fell one to complete together the way from the door to the altar in the evening tied it to the chair of straw, to peel the potatoes and beans, to sew and knit. Amalia
heard the stories of others, stories of children from the others, imagined crowned the children who made love, not like it: the first faltering, the drop of a tooth, the convulsions of laughter to tears, the shoes that tie and untie and bare feet and flu and fever ... Wanted to get up and running, do not listen, run into the wind. His leg would not allow it. Amalia
invoked Santa Ana to make it working with the thimble, to help her not to prick and to fertilize your belly. But the saint had other business to attend. Amalia
and leg were hostile colleagues, to the point that she was enrolled, with patience, every letter of the word disease and amputation.
waiting for the doctor saw when he pushed his leg last. Chuck alone at the foot of the table, without a hand to help her, asked to lift the saint, a miracle was not in their catalog. Santa Ana
felt it was time to fulfill it. Carved on the body of Amalia the beginning of a story for future generations. In return, she made him promise that all his female offspring would be named Anna also daughters of their daughters and so on forever. Together they invented the lineage of Annas. Ana
invited his leg and its shadow to join the game. Ana who fell a thousand times and did not see this as a bad omen. Ana did not make ends meet, but something invented. Ana patching knees and wiped away tears. Ana pins painted on the sky, taut ropes and ironed sheets. Ana was in the clitoris and opened a door. Ana decided on his belly. Ana loved and hates. Ana enjoyed and suffered. Ana with ... no ... Ana Ana Ana c ... x ... z ...