Perpassados for the cold sword of the capitalism. Reduced mere the parts of reproduction and the famous and tipsy consumers. Mutilated so that let us fit in this system Space for the integral man does not exist. We live the time of the reducionismo. The time of ‘ ‘ it makes of conta’ ‘ of the extenuante search of the personal accomplishment. Let us rebel us, exactly in dragging, mutilated; as shipwrecked.
Let us free an shout: they help them! We are here! They stop! They listen to them! We are here! Twisting us in pitiful state of shortage. Drowned in the of great volume ocean of quiet quiet laws. Shipwrecks! In a sea of order and clutter. They stop! We are here! We demand respect. They look at! We do not have face We do not have to look at we do not have word we are mutilated. Mutilated reliable Mutilated and infuriated. Mutilated and one orphan ‘ ‘ State lastimvel’ ‘.
Who goes to occupy the space of the lastimvel, denying State of the respect and the decency? Presumption guard of the right? We live moments difficult We live difficult and decisive moments in the consisting institutions. Transformed into kitchens of that if they smear eating vsceras of needy victims of the blackout. Revolting men of stomach who if feed of men Cannibals! Men of ‘ ‘ urnas’ ‘ morturias Sedentos cannibals of blood and meat without rotten life Infuriate! to drink? Lgrimas, is clearly! Tears of defenseless victims Predators of the silence of the sick children in ‘ ‘ filas’ ‘ of the poverty. Cannibals! Devoradores of old skin and bone of Old of lost looks Of vacillating hands Of weak shoulders Forgotten faces. Men of the morturias ballot boxes, regents of the spectacle ‘ ‘ forecourt of the heads voadoras’ ‘. Usurpers of rights of the passive victims of the ignorance! Anxiety Advances Tires ….. Mutilated cannibal also I am! Predator-of-me-mesmo.At when I will attend absorbed, incrivelmente other people’s and distracted, to the escabroso spectacle of famous corja of corrupt mutiladores of already human specters as I? Until when I will say ‘ ‘ sim’ ‘ to the vile game of the morturia corruption that if makes gift to the funeral of the democratic values; singing and dancing, to the embriagador sound of a ballot box that only confirms? Yes, mutilated and mutilador I am! Until when Until when my full mouth of food and the difficult breath for the inebriante drink, spilled on the table of ‘ ‘ supper farta’ ‘ , it will make to silence the shout and to stifle soluo of the world it are there? I will be a coward cannibal? Comensal careless in a particular world? Mine? Only mine? My lap? Until when Until when my smile the truth will disfarar bothers that me? My easy yellow smile It will ignore the dismal smile of the dead-livings creature? Until when the racket of the party, with its alucinante sound, it will protect me of the hungry ones that they teimam in populating my nightmares? Insistent what beat to the door of mine, uneasy and desventurada, conscience? Compassion. Compassion Until when I will mumble displicentemente the old phrase: HAPPY NEW YEAR, in the old one world of mine I? Until when! It says me? Until when! Happy old year! How let us learn something with it!