tomorrow, but still today it is necessary but I doubt what to say, what to do, go there, come back, but I'm not sure this is what I want, I would like something that fits me something to which I launch without saying that it's not worth it, but for years I am compelled to note that I do not find a body rushes towards me in utter nakedness of spirit, how to get to the top of the moment, cets now useless, the dirge, the stars falling, but now I count my bones, they do not fall, they hold despite the bondage in which I move, everything filled movement hatred and cotton, it puzzles me, I do not know what to do, but mostly what I mean is in fear of words, it is in the sense that I see the good being, but when I see it will not, I do nothing, I expect it to pass, and so what if I'm wasting my time, otherwise I win, not singing, hiding me, looking out the window, hoping I know what, because what I like is live now, right now, it is happening, and yet my life ahead, so what do