How much time has passed? How much longer will it last? My spirit is young, my mind bursts with energy. But my body sleeps and slowly withers. How many times have I seen my hand tremble? My eyes flutter? My heart feel afraid? I feel useless like a used condom, redundant like trash. A spit on the wall. My soul rebels and seeks peace. My face asks for a smile of joy. I want to escape from this loneliness, which I feed on, in which I take refuge and is the only state in which I realize myself. I am a prisoner of my pride and the fear of leaving this condition of non-being. My life is an inert thing, time has embalmed it, now it is a corpse and dries in the sun like a piece of shit.