Waar Vind Ik Vuze Templates

F, F FIIIT

parole al vento.
giusto il tempo di una cottura di pasta.

musica assordante. ma veramente assordante.
non-controlli del livello di rombo.
tanto sono a casa da solo. tanto mi sento solo.

dodici (dodici poi è il numero che uso spesso ultimamente) mila chiamate fatte e ricevute, oggi.
bastano poche cose per far vacillare anche la più alta colonna della città.
e passando a figure meno metaforiche, bastano pochi volti per mettere in difficoltà le più dure decisioni dell’ultima parte della mia vita (così evito il retorico e sono tutti più felici e meno critici).



* Pause control * boiling water



the situation goes on without a decision ambivalent.
as you say, would require a mutual firm.
I decide you decide. in the same direction, positive or negative, otherwise you find yourself having to accept the choice of the other. choice that never comes, because nobody here has the courage or the power is sufficient.
and then what?
tututu.
phone.
photography.
dreams.
dream or are awake.

lot, swear a lot, do not want to think tonight.
and everything slides, by Diana, that all slides without questions and without answers.
everything is like to be better, I do not know Who are you and you do not know why I am there in front.

lot, swear a lot, like situations of spaceless and timeless, so to call it.
enough lace and embroidery around stories not mine, not experienced by the hour and take jobs than ever.

I miss him so much here.
no, we did not.



pause control * boiling water *

throws water, the water is thrown.
we go.
you back?

today yes, tomorrow no.



strong need to vent
STOP
will go out soon so crazy

cry without tears
STOP STOP STOP
cry without hesitation





I cursed and I promised not to do it again.

Swollen Red Hot Painful Elbow

unsigned band you speak of.
never heard before, God knows where, and pronounce your name.

look up and find the name of your city even on a rusty yellow wagon.
look down, put his fingers in his hair, watching the shadows and friends walk, pass your hand over your face and look of the new name of your city.
this time remain to be fixed.
this time remain a pensare.

“ e parlare ti fa bene
come il cielo sulla neve
come il fiore senza seme ”

stiamo dilatando tempi non nostri.
accumularsi di minuti e poi ore, giorni e settimane spero mai.
è strano.
non so contare quante volte l’ho detto, ma è strano, per davvero.

mi tingo di verde
mi sento demente.
eppure è così.
che mi basta leggere un tuo congiuntivo per intenderlo indicativo, immaginare chi sia lui, vedere il suo sorriso su di te e il tuo timido voltarti.
il mento.
per essere riaccompagnato, indietro da un dito indice.

are little more than thirty days, you know?
happened a little 'things in while.
cocks, even those on which we liked minchioneggiare.
yet the flow is that there is more loss gain.
loss
more I earn.
because there are cases pending in the end I did not know then. just missing the vertical gym on Sundays in the study.
and lie down on the bed.
the phone rang. I we lay on the bed.
and I clung to adolescent terribly sometimes happened that the first cushion pad, the first smile that came back from the past.

evenings are different.
stupidly I realize finding holes of free time, rooms with me still smell you.
ready then you call it.
then, well, I never do. or almost.

that night, yes, I was a "drunkard", returning from a dinner.
drunkard and I was curled up.
a fetus.
to bed.
with you the other side.

tired, rightly, to me.

(written taken from my faithful Muji, travel companion)