Still I could not have begun to write, am sleepy, have killed myself to straws... The ideas go away for the cock, others are the spots of milk of other guys of other statements that still I have not formed. I am very sleepy, a lot of dream ... since today I cannot write, I will paint with the turnip on the linen of the pillow. It is a sluggish pillow as if I was going to bed with thousands of slept cocks. Today I do not have donkey that to mount not even youngster that to domesticate. I will sleep surrounded with acid slobbers of loin of some rent boy who gathers me from the asphalt, after a coma etílico having caught. As Plauto was saying, let's drink, that it belongs to wise persons to drink and to rectify
(Timy Boyle, Debutant )
"Mañana será otro día Timy..."
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