Search for a Branch to Hold

I open it because every time I take my hand, I hope he calls. This is friendship? Look at the damn license plate on every white car coming out of the corner of the street. As soon as the first job of drinking water to drink my cup of holy drink, look at and cry or friendship?

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Every evening by train to return home on the way to the street intersection of the intersection of the eye to get stuck to the glass to go to a stop, to go away, to miss his friend?

The last person you thought of before you went to bed, the first person that comes to your mind when you wake up is a friend? The only subject of my prayers, the mother of my sorrows, the lover of my tears, my only confidant, my only stakeholder, my only hope, my only longing, my hope, my dream, my dream?

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How do I get out of this? What am I gonna tell myself? Excuse what? Who handed me a hand from this swamp? Get out of your fork. Which branch should I hold in the desert?

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My First Book In progress

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