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Cap5 Lock, Shock, Barrel and Boniel English
'You'll be a joke, two years is a long time, I said.
-Not that bad guys, the time pass quickly.
-Not to say to that, I said.
'Look, Lock now have eight and a half years, Barrel you have seven and a half and ... Your are?
'My name Boniel Ghost and I have seven years.
-Okay, the day will come Shock, Lock you will have ten and a half, Barrel you will have nine and a half and nine-Boniel your Windy said.
-Yeah but ...-Boniel stopped talking, a baby began to mourn.
-Quiet ... Calm Windy Hazel ... 'He said, do not confuse, Witch Hazel is the older half-sister died of Windy Wizard is the first daughter of Windy-Best that you may be, and continue the conversation later.
We returned to the tree house. We were there all day because we had no desire for anything.
The next day, gave me not to leave or out of bed.
- Are you sick? 'I wonder Barrel.
'Well, get up, check the food will be in no time, said Barrel.
I have no hunger ...
- And thirsty?
-Leave me alone ...
- What if
Cap5 Lock, Shock, Barrel y Boniel
-Estarás de broma, dos años es mucho tiempo-Dije.
-Tampoco es para tanto chicos, el tiempo pasara rápido.
-No se que decirte ante eso-Dije.
-Mirad, ahora Lock tienes deis años y medio, Barrel tu tienes cinco y medio y... ¿Tu eres?
-Me llamo Boniel Ghost y tengo cinco años.
-Vale, el día en que Shock vendrá, Lock tu tendrás ocho años y medio, Barrel tu tendrás siete y medio y Boniel tu siete-Dijo Windy.
-Ya pero...-Boniel dejo de hablar, un bebe comenzó a llorar.
-Tranquila... Tranquilízate Hazel...-Dijo Windy, no os confundáis, Hazel Witch es la hermanastra mayor muerta de Windy Wizard y Hazel Wizard es la primera hija de Windy-Mejor sera que os vayáis, ya continuaremos la conversación mas tarde.
Volvimos a la casa árbol. Nos quedamos allí todo el día porque no teníamos ganas de nada.
Al día siguiente, me dio por no salir ni de la cama.
-¿Estas enfermo?-Me pregu
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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