Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

Away from your Shores Your ghosts play and look at me weird. I plan an early escape from your disastrous shores. You had nights with moon and shade, nights with fire and windows, nights of desiring to give what you've never given. To whom did you ever belong? To no one, and perhaps to nothing. I regret escaping early from your shores because we liked each other lying on the floor, dragging our bodies like old Sequoias, boneless, purely out of lust.

I plan an early escape from your disastrous shores … from nights of desiring to give what you've never given