So what?

And so what?

Less than a pound of your fate
will make this eyes keep dry
sun still again'st every path
fucking your plans, mattering:shine.

And so what?

Dysgrace layered at your backyard
or just wannabeeing at your heart
self beeing
wonders
fucking dreams

And so what?

flames, and then: anger.

Ó. Valcárcel. Mayo de 2009. Revenido.