Can Implantation Bleeding Just Be Pink Tinged

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Oh my God. God appears, reborn, takes all the provisions enough to conceive what happens when she jumps on top of him sitting, clutching his chest, sucking, taking her by the waist for her to jump over and make God appear more times Oh my God, oh my God ... Fuck . I see no eyes, I see through the camera lens. I turn to face her, the numb face of the divine presence that only exists when you pronounce and she says and opens his eyes and still jumping up and gets up and goes like a dog and he stands behind her and I walk around the office and tell her to further develop his God and to move faster. She looks at me, or rather, looks at the camera and I move a bit, pointing out that change, to cuddle and take the huge member of it and enter it into your mouth, that mouth that God has created and he ask me something I can not decipher and I answer with silence, through a zoom camera that comes close to the phallus lying in the crib of God, now it is unpronounceable, and that, however, thinking and can therefore be flooded in each of the neurons Oh my God, Oh my God . And he takes the head, not remove him without the hair falling over her forehead and on his pelvis, and I will not say anything, just do another sign them to return to the desk and she put face up and open her legs and bend directing the warm to heaven, to that firmament which God is refilled when the member rolls of what she has inside. The cry of it fills the sky but can not see; Oh my God! , just focus on me that some movement will mean a change order of position, as I remember the garden where I walked when Uncle Obdulio approached me and I cut off the kind that now moves into it, and suddenly to pour out the liquid rearwardly on her face. And I'm left with less money after giving each other hand and with the possibility of finding others who can bring forth God as a distant breeze I can only weave in my powerful impotence.

Aszeta

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A search

urine was happiest of his life. The liquid sparkled with sunlight streaming through the small window in the bathroom simulating a strange and precious material. He recalled the story of a man who had dedicated to working both urination whose product was perfect, culminating dying in front of the toilet, and after the autopsy, were found diamonds of a similar color to the champagne in your bladder. It was the luckiest out of the bath of his days away at the height of his company, which had about thirty yards from his home to the barn where he hoped to find the boy. Many years of waiting finally would yield its fruit, a wait that was born from his first experience with a chicken in the country house of his paternal grandfather, was collecting eggs, and stood his cock-hungry somewhere in the which settle and move up to spit the milky liquid so often seen in back scattered from different animals (including some women and men at the time believed easily fall into the madness of love is not), picked up one of the hens to inspect your daily posture, an outburst which focused on his pelvis and hands, caused them to lower his pants and torn close to the animal that gave a strong clucking soon drowned and the bird's body trembled, just as the teen had. His grandfather never suspected grandson's behavior when he noticed that the number of hens decreased, did what he thought was the logical thing: Leave out of work the manager of the house and this, with no alternative than that of the petition, asked the grandson your employer assist him, the request came as a glove to teenager, without hesitation, asked her back, the manager's reaction was a blow that left the young man lying on the floor and a former worker in jail for personal injury. Most promising was the morning of his days, it a few steps to open the barn door that was once his grandfather, and he was the guy who probably slept, as the friend of his younger brother, when he surprised one Sunday , the child was not aware of the barrage until he became a member in deyector erect, and had no choice but to wait until the weapon loses its tension and the snorting of his who was on it ended up getting dressed and run out of the house they never returned. Those who had loved best were the hens always prostitutes complained or asked him if he wanted more money into their rear, girlfriends or boyfriends I had, they asked that the subsequent kisses could never dispense with total conviction, as orders were part of a different circle of love, in which all delivery was unstoppable stream, so once sold off all the requisites of the subjects in their braising, ie, after having obtained the relevant qualifications, decided to retire to the country house of his now deceased grandfather, where the hens had enough to indulge in their own grunting and shaking movements and dying birds and remember them in the starry nights in twin and noisy. It was the most glorious moment of his life, the door creaked a little and the child was hit by the morning light that tore his eyelids still closed, was lying in a fetal position, maybe trying to protect themselves from frost that morning had fallen mainly the field, perfect for the lover thought I might have to cough while I was penetrating, riveting as the boy's father, who after having delivered to him, took a large dose of rat poison without caring to leave his then son a year in state orphanage and the only possibility to be cared for by the employer who had agreed a night in which it requested in the midst of a binge and which he accepted without the slightest glimmer of resistance. It was the most shining moment of his life, the child was four, without which he ordered, and only gave a little cry when he took his penis and inserted between the tender and virgin cavity boy of twelve years; trying to cover his mouth with his hand, he bit the child until a little blood came out of it, which prompted him to move with a certain rage that made him forget all those years of waiting, the boy continued training, which consisted of exercise deyector simple caress her while the boy rested after helping to collect and clean the eggs that were in the house. When he finished inside the boy, he said he would like to be pregnant, and they embraced for the first time they kissed that resulted in another bite, until they both felt a slight metallic taste of blood that had to start this love which concluded befell few minutes later, when the boy told him it was time to go, to indulge his own search of love. That afternoon was not the last nor the most sad, just one more he needs to die in peace and wait for the last entry of air into his lungs. When he died, the boy was no longer boy, but a big man who wept over the grave of the only man she had loved.

Aszeta

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operations I talked about cause and effect. Rel. I laughed a little knowing that soon the sweet will of lethargy. The incessant rain was only the choice of that other day that ran in my head. It completed the evening with the fall of a shining sun that dull the desire of my day. I left the place with the knife in his pocket, once again delaying the end of that one that has meat and that ultimately is the one that breathes and responds to what I believe, is my identity. Aszeta

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To come

so even when I can not speak in second person. If silence that circulates in my dismembered members could warn me with every movement caused by wind, translating them into vain thoughts, but I have words that have stitched my lips, let me just make sounds that not even manage to roll over beyond my mouth. I say screaming like a faint voice: Even on some things that you leave more debris in this blind way, so this is no time to rest but to prepare for the next removal.

Aszeta

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Monologue

did not tell me anything. Now guess how my figure would decline under the bus window, while he was away you on board. However, this would mean that you turned on the seat to keep watching, to note that body with limbs that was quiet and thoughtful, trying to find a way to find a place to sleep. It may not have occurred any of that, but rather as a person you sat in a catatonic state and from the moment your back is supported on the seat padding of the bus, forgetting became our common space. That's why I write you telling you that I have not yet home, since you left I have not had enough luck to get used to a roof and in the evening I walk through the center of this city which, together with its inhabitants, contempt every day, I stood before a display case numb and television soap operas I see characters going in and out of houses and apartments with the ease with which any of us breathe, and it fills me with indifference enough to know I'll spend another winter night under the dim light of these nights away. I write knowing that this is not going to read and ignore who I am writing these words.

Aszeta

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You, you try to look flat cover the risks of deep breathing to fall dormant



You, dam missed sleepless night in which

unpronounceable names and denied rumble
You
, nurse sick absences

shelter me with icy breaths


You who hang out with the fatigue of a battle that does not come

and know that they will lose without dying,

loading an asthmatic laughter


shame You, you look bright-eyed idle the fire in the sky, sinking in hopes

unfinished

dawns on fatigue calculated by an eternal drunkenness

ignored us not forget, we forget

without You omit


, killed by a shadow Christ scourged,

are helpless,

Aszeta

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In his face was a breeze scorching glow in my memory:

Two days enough for that shot darting
swim towards listens, will return to
the twilight of my bones

chained to this earth dispensing of sentences.

Aszeta

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34 81

me away scattered ash across a desert unfinished. Me scatters more insolent in your region, chasing the complete disappearance. However, an obstinate breeze take my rubbish to places where I submit to you utter boredom.

Aszeta

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Pelican

From time to Pelican told, the man ended up trying. He went to a container port and extended his arms and shook as if it had wings. He closed his eyes, waiting for a fall blizzard elevated him into the clear sky. Rose. Rise in full flight, looked down the icy sea water and tried that mourn, I was afraid of heights, was a bird who could not stand the distance from the ground. The man stopped moving his arms like a huge bird and left the port. He could not even be a pelican that he address the raging of the ocean debris as foreign as the body that was in luck.

Aszeta

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Anchoring in the future

ceased to be when I say I am. Every word I made it submerged in the mud of the past, and memory can only be a battered rag to help clean the artifacts, without thereby resume their bright primary. What if instead of a past event I hold a future? A future that by enrolling in what I say, it loses all virtuality and would catch me in the letters as a prophecy. Write my autobiography from the future and therefore fill me facts indicating that I lived every day have been permeated by something more subdued than the vacuum, by those who own distraimiento smile. Windows closed and shades down will be enough to start, "March 21, 2043. Today my doctor diagnosed dementia begin to sharpen, so I write this, raising the possibility that the cleaning of all my past, and therefore my life, so allow me to reinvent myself and read everything I write, as if glimpsed in the mirror and face the ignorance of which is always updated. It is the chance to live, because forget my former days, to live a single day with the endless options it gives me the absence of any memory. August 31, 2043. This time I presume that is where I write, I do not know what year and ground are screaming that killed Gaitán though that my grandmother told me when I was little, she said she saw flames and Bogotá in the newspapers seemed to act hastily in images of anger and that she saw them but could not read or I thought so because he had dementia. Poor grandma. I also think poor me I do not remember anything, but hey, I can keep inventing and I can say and I can know that I am the same thing as yesterday and perhaps the next morning, but am not going to know. Another day or the same. The dates are over and breath, breath that I used to type, to make notes. There are not many words, forget the previous, previous, Rointe. " Days will not be embedded in anything written. Not even the life itself will be a disappearance, not even be limited in silence.

Aszeta

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"In this city, all are very handsome," she told you reaffirming your statement, just as they were about embracing on the train. Knew she was not his remains, which she had a nice couple of guys that break open. Also I knew that would incur in meeting with one of those beautiful boys who roamed the streets with shining blue eyes, just to feel comforted.
once tried to kiss her more, and she put the palms of your hands on your chest skinny, and I broke up enough to say I had a little sleep and wanted to lie on your shoulder much more squalid than a newborn deer.
You let her back his face and not embraced it, You hit your arms extended to the trunk and looked yours seasons pass. When did you had decided to leave the city frozen by handsome young men and women? If you could not even do something on yours, how would change the outlook in the midst of so handsome, so many bodies that made you feel a ravenous beast that waited for the huge predator left some loopholes that you could swallow; those remains were enough to leave wounded on the verge of annihilation every bone roías hurt you more than your mouth, and blood, blood waiting to languish without anything else to happen and had to return after the bushes to wait, but you did not want Another attack and other leftovers that hurt you.
The seasons passed and went up and down hundreds of beautiful specimens, perhaps thousands of spectra that you invited me to be indifferent to yourself to reinforce your conviction that she would feel better and let you back in your own state of solitude, walking lurking, hoping to find someone who does not devour you. You remembered
allusions made you mate fairy who lived in the apartment with you: "Here are nice, as well as how to catch it dirty, make you feel pork and that's what I like" could not find the difference between a homosexual and a woman at the time to address the handsome boys, were the receptacles themselves all the fury and life lived between the legs of these beautiful behemoths. You
in the city of handsome: You are loaded with anemia, the hunger of days gone by undercooked pasta and long walks which afflicted your hooked and crooked legs. The seasons passed, and I posed as a train smash your body (the wait, those moments when you'd driven by the indifference of iron) and we suggest that the assault was equal to her professed compassion for you.
were heading the department in which they were sleeping. There find hundreds of copies scattered across the floor, a plate with scrambled egg remnants you forgot to wash that morning and she would tell you organize everything for a moment: All the near future was a virtuality.
station you came and you moved your head, she took your hand as if they were engaged. Not yet had the energy to say goodbye with the same ease with which he took off his clothes when left alone with nothing else to do.

Aszeta

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Men Forced To Self-facial

scarlet climbed the mountain with their backs a little heavy, a bit dry of words invisible and useless to us mired. We hope the fall of the moon vault to purge each of the unspeakable killings that we were dissecting. Then try to get into the field of absences, such as where the last remaining onomatopoeia redoubt where the bullets could cuddle a crying themselves threatening. We were, we knew that one had to leave. This was not to mediate a linear path of time, just a hop as the electron, and then he said nothing, took a leap that took him to another world map, a concavity racked conducive to their eyes. Now try to perpetrate something unique glimpse, appearing in chronic cryptic language in which his fatigue to become a star dressing over the stage where it came from, and not appearing to be rising, but seeing that piece of it which makes it persist. I can not deny the grief that seized me, ultimately, is my friend, that being that despite coming from afar I despised, or rather, I appreciated in my size, but crouched to listen, let me dance with her on the brink of endless steppe where reflux vertigo was a precarious nostalgia like mine, out of space and time as his. I was on the mountain scarlet, spotting something that soaks into the sky, that gift irreconcilable with the days and time as a message scattered out of nowhere and led nowhere. I can not deny it, my friend, and it weighs at the time of the game. Scarlet descended from the mountain, it ceased when I left the last step at the mercy forget the dry surface. Just left for the endless plain, I turned my face and I found a green thicket that stood as a sign that told me where my friend left it was the dense fog but a birthday in the days following without passing any, or perhaps the simple curvature where he is with his family in the place of no place to shrines or obituaries, and that messages are still floating between me and him. I can say no more than a greeting from the foreign land that racking waiting for a meeting, which I expect is enough for him to be.

Aszeta

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II

And it is not but mention the words ever, those that appear on the covers of the books that promote new solutions to marital conflict, or the so-called recurrent depression much less dangerous than AIDS: emotional disaster, disaster, scriptural, soul disaster, disaster. As the holder of a tabloid newspaper, as a banality that is stuck in an endless display. All that remains is that promontory where names always on, as the addition of a breathing, as fears of play, as the fear of not doing so, as a constant affront unlikely death at the hands of self. And how encyclopaedic readings have been killed, leaving at least one letter, a small uprooting serve for hours, to get drunk and sleep and wake up sore. No choice but to fill something with words, with mentions of the unspeakable, with the demarcation of the boredom that only runs through aging. The rivers are plotted on the face, waiting for the years that one hopes to avoid.

Aszeta

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Smoke Rise

The sun glimpsed just coughed and looked up at the veil made of smoke which covered the sky, shining there: on one side of the sky was yellow and in the evening, it shone with sufficient depth to increase my hangover, you might call a moral hangover, and I do not mean a criterion that obey a set of values, but because of that melancholy which I was banished from my wishes I could not call as much less as melancholy and nostalgia and depression word brings to mind a history [1] , the streets were flooded smoke, it was all started by a fire that occurred in the delta islands near the city, I imagined the flames that were barely touched sparks mowing wet dark fluid is unfathomable that river, the early days nobody worried, asthma that morning returned to me as a threat, my back could not inflate enough without coughing, and if I dared to do an attack that could occur for years had been banished [2] , I raised the option to die that way, suicide was just me seductive in those moments when he saw him away from me, on those nights where cheap beer floating through my temples with overconfidence that lay in the conviction that nothing would wake up, he snapped a shot that rose imagery with cigarette ashes on the floor dead, with direction to a dimension inaccessible to me in moments of sobriety; I walked toward the subway, had to perform my daily tasks, such that I postponed the images that sprang from me and returned to the same place of origin and shelled hits from an eternity as I walked away from my birth, my eyes faded [3] or at least I assumed so, well, the point is that as I approached the station, the smell of charred tree filled me with an absence emerged only silver lining to any absence of life before me, so I could take my vigils, bury them in my daily life without that overwhelmed me and so achieve better respond to each of the daily chores as simply did not interest me, the day promised, the fire was increasing and did not stop newsletters predict the weather situation would get worse as the hours were advancing, lit the last cigarette I had left in the pack, cursed because he knew he was going to have another fast bound [4] , but soon I was stopped by a policeman, you can not do, he said, and I with my notes of fear, with reverence I always assumed by subtraction of myself, for my discouragement, by my total lack of any movement that involves an opposition salutary lesson, I put the cigar in my pocket, I did not understand the reason for restriction, this was the scenario for smokers, in short, all were breaking the lungs and this gave us addicts, the quality of being health-friendly elements; continuing flood of smoke and I could not smoke. I am prey to this attempt to protect ourselves from death as we die.

Aszeta

[1] Once my cousin was admitted to a mental hospital, she believed to be Marie Antoinette, and the solution was to supply pills to be used daily, my cousin used them according to the recipe given, but after a while tired, and although at first fell into a state of silence similar to that of its crisis, never managed to recur in the same state, now works as a brilliant engineer in a prestigious firm, and simply lets spend the day in that state mood that swings like a canoe at the mercy of the waves and never sinks.
[2] ventilating and its effect only comes when a woman or a man I like, is revealed in my viewing space, which incidentally is quite limited, if I have in mind the progressive myopia my piece will look.
[3] My nephew is growing: As a baby in her eyes caught a glimpse of infinity, but now I despise him as much as others, has been lost in this mass of humanity given the ephemeral features on .
[4] always I preferred to spend the money on a few mouthfuls of tar in anything that involved the movement of my teeth.

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V

Exile
night veiled his eyes and purple of a nameless space and time
tucked the rubble that had been believed.

Aszeta

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A poet

will lie with the perfect verse footprint, "Maybe enough sleep so that the word resonates in the memory of a language that my hands know how to plot." Close your eyes and open them in the morning, knows that one poem can not be fouled by the act of sitting to transcribe. Is raised with the belief that the fall of his poetry a pale sheet involves the death of the same and adheres to the hope that this day finally weave some imperfect lines that will make you a writer of poems and not just a poet.

Aszeta

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Life tightening as I release my attachment insane
this
defy breathing and daytime line lifted after the window,
they invite me to attend a renewed disappointment.

Aszeta