Defectous.

“What is a poet? An unhappy person who conceals profound anguish in his heart but whose lips are so formed that as sighs and cries pass over them they sound like beautiful music…and people crowd around the poet and say to him, ‘Sing again soon’- in other words, may new sufferings torture your soul, and may your lips continue to be formed as before, because your screams would only alarm us, but the music is charming.”

My dreams are result of all mistakes I made on my life, now when the rain kiss my window and the wind takes on a ride all my defects, my soul take part of me and makes me better than yesterday but makes me more ethereal even more than years ago. 
My thoughts were so deep that you could see the frustration in my eyes.
Author note: There's no coherence possible in the wonderland of the abstract, dears. Welcome to my mind.

Nothing had sence in that world, the life is just a conjuction of circles and in the end nothign cares.

Moonjuction have a secret hidding in her eyes.

Some secrets are just abstractions that scratch the sky, how about the secret of my mind?
I don't want to scare you but my mind doesn't work very well recently, "I adore simple pleasures. They are the last refuge of the complex.”I love that weird moment when you put the music so high , and your body want to do frenetic moves, this remember me the quote of Oscar Wilde, “I adore simple pleasures, They are the last refuge of the complex”because that is, the feeling of a song, how to your veins dancing in a unique rhythm and how do you feel that everything’s simple and easy; enjoy of the small things.Meanwhile the reason and the logic was fighting, the time was running out of himself. It was as when you feel that all the persons are moving around yourself and you’re just right there in the middle of the infinite cosmos, unable to move.

~Moon- "El cielo nunca es un impedimento para esa alma"