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this does not feel

Letter to the not feel

Strange recipient:

I reached the point where I do not know if I feel, because writing to not feel, is to write to anything that inhabits the body.

is write to the frustration, the helplessness, anguish or decrease the time in life was suddenly tasteless without spices, without looking at any part, not inside to hear the symphony chords of the soul.

I write and I write this I miss, vague limbo, lost in pain and living in the steppes of a distant hope.

My body hurts, every pore of my skin, every organ, every glance into the infinite that was just on the horizon that changes location every time I turn and yet the line is blurred and distant .

I write because I feel alienated in the midst of a maze with no way out, where there is no lamp to illuminate a joy in the midst of so much anguish and loneliness.

This letter never written, not feeling, is perhaps the greatest paradox that makes palpable the deepest feeling in the pit of my life.

While waiting for a miracle,

I .