Connecting A Usb Hard Drive To An Lg Tv

Someday.

Days
Days tired.
Days infinitesimal suppliers.
Days.
Days of mirrors blind.
Days all equal and endless
when everything seems to be glass,
when life crumbles between your fingers.
Days trembling.
Days when the whole world
sand is shining hour.
Days which is exceeded,
continually bypassed.
Days when the soul is oil.
Days of tremors.
Now that your sad song
no longer able to pay.
Days when cats cry.
And days when we cry.
any day.
Days of paper.
Days that no knife
size or emotion.
Days of nothing.
Days like me.

This poem goes back about four years ago. More or
less. But it is always present, is one of the few that I have never ceased to feel. Will be speaking of something vague and obvious and predictable, is that maybe the days are always the same. Background. And nobody cares.
I remember writing it in a moment of apathy. Complete vacuum, as if I and the reality we had become two-dimensional, and all slip. A bit, I was going through. It's not that I mind a few things that do not smile or other.
's just that everything seems a little flutter on a screen hyaline.
I do not know. Maybe I just feel alone.
The only good thing is that I picked OT. And who knows where it came from, where the inspiration is back. But perhaps it had always been here, and I just had to put seriously to the keyboard. I had to find something.
I think I'm lost.
And maybe I missed really. But
... boh. I have a feeling, for once, I find myself.
Sooner or later.
After all, today was sunny. Even if it was hot.
Above all, why was not hot.
And I got some direction.
E 'something.
Maybe.