HUMANITY NATURAL DISASTER

I have always wanted to meet a real man or woman, and I have never found one. When I was young and went out to visit clubs, dances, brothels, I only found men or women who were not men or women but brutes and animals.

When we left all these joints, my friends and I, we all went around saying that Humanity is a natural disaster. That it has no remedy. That if the final Apocalypse does not come it is because there will always be someone to fix, and women will always be twenty years old, face up, face down.

Grumbling and scolding is what we have to mend. Men shit in cauldrons, and women listen to mass shitting in the corrals. Where good wine is drunk, there the girls are affectionate, and men mend their pants for the grilled toast of the moment.

Let us hear them in the cellar:

-My mother married me to a shepherd, because I went to mass one day and he raped me in the sacristy; which did not displease me because he is a messenger of God.

-Thinking that I had found a good girl, the other day I took her to the cellar, believing that she was a lady; but, when she lowered her trousers, the goatherd’s erect member appeared.

-How come you are, boy; you seem very angry.

-Since it has rained, I wanted to jump across the road, and in the middle I fell.

-Politicians are hopeless. They do not say a good word. They only know how to bray, thundering the House and the whole Nation.

-A bunch of hypocrites, thieves and liars they are, for whom the only bad thing is to bray out of season.

-They are as despicable as fools.

-Like priests, who are surprised to find the Donkey they lost when they pedophilia children.

-They wanted to make me a nun or a priest, but my parents surprised me by putting a dildo in my anus and vagina.

-I think it is a reasonable and convincing fact that Humanity is a natural disaster.

-Next to my house I have a small orchard and a strawberry tree. With my little orchard and the strawberry trees that it gives me, I don’t want any more!

-The Love that exists is only natural. I know that it needs an Aria, and I will play it for it as musicians do, and singers sing it and raise it to Heaven with pleasure and care, until Death comes, we hear it moan with pleasure, and we leave it so satisfied.

-Wait, Death, I want to say goodbye to Love.

-Mourners, cry as I do now; that Death has bitten my glans with its skull teeth.

– Goodbye.