P.I.P_I (english)

 

That night, scaping serenely of this torture reality, tramping for the streets tied to my theat internal, cought between the infinity walls invisibles of this confused labyrinyh mental while i sumerging in a travel for the so many dusty drawers that pich up with the weight of multiple memorys of this bitther existence.

Whit the course of night, upset more and more of me, searching solace low the ´´human sanity´´.

Every spend second that sond moments of gloom, the voices every time to seize more and more of my, to my body, to mi mind, my heart, my sences, the memoty to made vague to measure that advance.

To such a point that not found me, don´t know who are.

Who am? What I do here? Where i´m? arise question without momories, without past neither future; i walking without course neither destiny, without roots, without affection and without love.

I are a zombie,  without memories, without past neither future; a walking without affection and without love

I are death though have life, or is life but death in soul, without know how sences, acto r think, while everione waits much by my but I just waiting someday live in the happiness for don´t dead in the sadness.