Esta Vasta Y Aniquiladora Vacuidad

No me des tregua, no me perdones nunca. Hostígame en la sangre, que cada cosa cruel sea nosotros que volvemos Érase una vez, en un país tan brumoso que solo se podía llegar hasta él enlazando diez borracheras, como esos pañuelos anudados que el ilusionista se saca de la boca en el circo y nadie se sorprende ni aplaude cuando nos encontramos defendiendo nuestra ración de tiempo y paraíso bajo sus cielos bajos y cenicientos

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