She's not here anymore. Perhaps at the end of the year I'll be there. Perhaps not. Will be the end of a
   relationship? or, Will only be the begining? Here's something for Ainara:

   Slowly wait for my boundary
   my past, my future, my funeral life.
   I wait for them (I hope lovely),
   I wait for my friends, I wait in the line.
   Pleasurely overcomes all my memory,
   I feel the voltures eating my mind.
   I see the gangrene sucking my body.
   I look at the sky waiting for someone
   In front of me, I won't see
   those damp dungeons in my heart,
   those hanged feet reacting with palmistry,
   equalitarian meetings with brains and their fans.
   Inside of me, I won't see
   my blooding conscience full of fear.
   I die full of plenty, I die happily
   waiting for my luck in this little steam.