Cenicienta De Porcelana

Do you dance? Porcelain Cinderella, locked in your flawless skin, sold as property to an elderly man, perfumed and compact. Skilled in deceiving the staff, locked in your cunning skin. There's a happy belly that sees through the nose and thinks with the vagina. Safe in the garden of laziness, you only use your head for the comb. Distorting vice, disloyal competitor, pirate of the trade. And committed to not committing. Locked in your impermeable skin, let time flow like one who listens to the rain and if they bark, let them bark. Stop dancing now, as the time of solitudes and silences approaches. No matter how much you squirm, you'll lose the shoe before it strikes twelve. Distant porcelain Cinderella, the shipwreck may surprise you in your kind brothel, locked in your skin and with nothing to wear.