me, the synapses. I molecule, the I neuron. I is a free body! I'm vibrating.
with these hands trembling, the gentle caress of the world, with very sharp nails, arrival in the deep.
tear away the flesh to this miserable existence, manipulate minds to distract consciousness.
write a thousand words away a billion years and then ... nothing!
feel powerful and inconclusive!
try to say just words away. distant, hands, hands fail me. and then disillusion in these delusions that they know in a hurry. martyrdoms for atrocious that nothing in mild m'รจ MISUSE parade of wagons crowded with strange animated dancing figures. the night when sleep is far from happy. Actually, I love you! you reign supreme truth and your goddaughter, is disguising a thousand fashionable clothes. port skimpy corsets and hair odoran fishing has lovely hands and tenacious grip the soul awakened.
hands, my hands fail. elongated soft hands on instances of forgotten pleasures.
defaulted my curiosity.
unresolved desire,
unfinished storyline,
unknown outcome of this landslide, which led right to the valley and drawings and paintings at night, and nursery rhymes, and carpets of notes, thoughts born already empty. it conveys emotions and intentions, while I was free in my miserable, relentless, attractions. while the body demanded more respect, while I thought I had a desert in my chest. while women with the pleasure of my game while dodging the whips of the precarious state, while the profane hand in this shroud celavo. between printed photos in the dark, taken in other contexts. as the sun warms me in the daytime, clear sky from clouds that tired, that white women are gone with the wind in the north. clear sky gives me warmth, and the living dividing my sweet, peculiar languor. widen the palms of the whole force, I offer them the light, by leaking energy in the channels of the body and feel that burn! arms, then the rest .. in the heart and mind, it spreads the immense, chaotic, this harmony.
fool of a poet ...
you are a martyr of love.
grant, grant, grant!
then remains alone with your mad fervor!
do at night, spend the complete emotion ...
drunk and lost ...
poet, you idiot! the rush will be your grave!
romantic be incomplete, with virtue to child remained strong.
poet, I say, a poet, you're crazy! wise but so are you crazy!
confused with the emotion you embarrassed you're crazy!
tell for years! Are you crazy, crazy. totally insane!
voice of the soul guide me!
because you stand there on the sidelines when I lose mind and deeds become fatal?
you say you are crazy but I well know!
crazy that I live and so die!
I will die chasing stars,
I want to stay on this skin a rip, not a caress
who loses meaning,
not touching you crave, but leave my mark!
an indelible mark and pure.
a sign hidden and long lasting.
scar in the liver!
blade into his belly.
I've uncovered and I am explosion,
in the brain have a splinter stuck,
a foreign object that nobody ever went!
nothing but the breeze ... storm!
with wrath and passion!
I told storm!
is that these words resound like thunder!
storm!
every molecule! each neuron! I will bare
killing me with these crazy feats,
desecrates the reason, the reason I fuck!
serving the sick logic!
the irrational: my one envelope!
my ludo, my joke, my tune,
played the violin with perfect trill.
you and I say, "Are you crazy poet?" I do not want to believe your unworthy sneer!
poet I am so mad, mad and rebellious!
in the absence of gashes on the skin,
I'm delighted to leave grooves in the wind ...
hands ... I fail hands, to write at night inhuman torture ...
I fail to hold strong hands, drawing on blue coat ...
hands ... I fail hands, laugh out loud ...
I miss tomorrow, I miss the pleasure of twisted limbs ...
I feel hurt ...
plan ... plan ...
I hear digging ...
my limbs tremble.
not betray his eyes.
wait still a poet.
my name is Riccardo.
0 comments:
Post a Comment