Marché to make peace with myself,
to beg the silence that does not scream,
to dance on the edge of an abyss
that begins and ends in this wager.
Trasnochador and perverse heart,
from night to dawn awake;
sleepwalking at the mercy of reason
was little some sand in the desert.
chess player, very quiet,
and know myself in the hands of fate,
a coin bet my soul
drinking large sips life and death.
and left cross. The die was cast:
lost everything and just won anything.
