T'aspettai for time immemorial.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
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T'aspettai for time immemorial.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
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simple. accomplice. we moved just outside.
now that the empire has fallen, now that more government, more that rule.
the petals have fallen. consoles. the party platforms, the piggy banks soups, crippled beggars.
but we moved just outside.
like the river that goes back unconscious into the arms of the sea.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
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As fate m'incateni in the dark necklaces and bracelets anxiety of regret, still stubborn in my universe is in you the desire to escape.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
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New filters for my cynicism, not metaphorical Knuckles for ambiguous; Cinnamon curator for the diabetic heart; Kg of fruit used to make shirts size S; machine smiles for bulimia social petrol and matches for the home siae; Xanax to stretch the coffee ; Masso not polished to forgo cyclicality; Inno hate to read when you wake up. My shopping list is completed more than .
Monday, September 13, 2010
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the word finesse embodies an end. as well as the word window. my thirst for victory is an infamous history. in hunger. discussions of anthropology and entrepreneurship. risk factors. played risiko. you just play. the ring is a fake?
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
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For coca cola machines in locked down the station and the cats ended badly along the ring road and to erase the tattoos and the diaries left by tram and found by those who certainly will not understand . For chapped lips for my cages upgraded without the TV signal and the officers who know how to round. Lick my tears, fertile acid rain. Why I'm yet to Space Invaders, because I can not find the book Lautramont yesterday a phone call has distracted my suicidal intent. Towels tears raining down out of season and protects without looking at my icon changes in appearance. Lock my murderous rampage against the photographers without thickness against songwriters without charisma and painters who do not honor the frame. Be silent curses when I can not find parking and holding up my low self-worth remembering that there is always worse. Let me hear God when you do come and cry to the heavens that you vibrate the thighs. It polarizes the noise when my mistake when I resigned to the dartboard and make me understand that there is no better. Disinfestami anger, convince me to buy in installments is a rip-off without a steady job and if I drive with those popular or if you find me to chant over the mirror take me elsewhere, to make love on the tracks beneath the feet where there is the 'ivy where there are no glasses to interpret and where there is only what I see.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
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The dimple in your smile as the fall of the Roman Empire. Affected side?
Bruciami inside. Bruciami of within a certain range. Je suis the inspiation. Wait. Wait for me that I'll catch up. On some imaginary wall I read the story of a woman in flower buds that were opened and then chose to grow and wither away from those who knew how to get started.
fleeting fear and two bumps. Eyes open.
clothes and pack your bags, we're late.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
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My 50 mm fixed lenses you recommend it. We are a couple, me and her. Was always my goal. Now I raggiunto.E 'a fixed lens. barefoot, there is freedom, and you know it already. There are no hard feelings, but it pains me to think of now that is summer. and you who follow my path of two aspects of money and the bang of my life. I have an appointment with Gaudi, I have it on Monday. What a laugh that is the focus of Brazilian musicians who have lived and something like that to girls. parks at night we were only halfway.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
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I've got a book. Rabindranath's name. it's hot. cry to hide. there is a part of me that can not belong because it is elsewhere. It can never be, I'm afraid. My daily Golgotha. The fame between the balls. My unapologetic vein that feels good. The swings are moving properly. I remember the theater of the absurd. remember shit. There is a part of me that is not yours, and never will be, because there is always somewhere else.
"The wave can not take the flower that floats
:
him when he tries to get away. "
And I disfigured.
Monday, May 17, 2010
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If you live a healthy life, unless you want to say goodbye, because you realize that few understand. 7 am to collect fragments of youth and you find yourself again. The answer is Robert Nesta, with the simplicity sfotte rhetoric that poetry, with a depth that disarms the paranoia of an age that always says "at my age."
" You May Not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before May she love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She's not perfect - You Are not Either, and the two of you may never be perfect together But if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to making Mistakes and Being Human, hold onto her and give her the Most you can. "
Sunday, May 16, 2010
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journalist headline the 'fresh air'. Some have the bread and has no teeth. some do not have the bread but has teeth. diet and dental problems. I do not pretend to be seconded to be attacked, seductive sixteen, thirty-something flickering. desires and whims. I think that the cashier did not Intimissimi compliments disinterested. and I think if that loyalty is a state of mind I have a bad headache. fame came off hunger. the world revolves around carrambachessorpresa. autographs on the bra. I do not have time to surprise maybe just to impress. and a question keeps me good company: who the hell is Liz Taylor?
Saturday, April 3, 2010
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Easter resurrection. Brigante in satirisi acute upset the girl from the white face. But how well he can use those hands. And then I'll stay in the moonlight watch. And I wipe your breasts. Father Bernardo comes
from Colombia. And m'h = sent to Compostela.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
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That day I felt the sea beyond the houses. Mooring without stumbling and dancing in the shadows. I was near Pont Morand, a local came the unmistakable notes of Dionysos. When I drink I always want to step into a sea. Very often I find him, but I see only me. Bernard says that if a woman can no longer be yours then it was forever. I do struggle to believe but I trust him and I can not do otherwise. That evening, we said, felt the sea and did not know that soon I would be reborn in new guise. Among the fallen leaves out of season at the Parc de la Tete d'Or utopian found the address of my victory. A seahorse. A horse marine environment in a public park, in a big city. Stiff and rigid. Found by a drunk who plays to the poet, or perhaps by a poet who pretend to be drunk. But how he got there? because it was done to find me? The sea was. the sea existed. Did not require more imagination. It was a tangible sign of his presence. There was only migliorarare sight, nothing more.
The days have gone soft on rhythms and fleeting, fast orgasms, along roadsides, on the souls of dirt on streets not yet drawn. I think of Bernard, the fact that I would find him and understand his wisdom. And I think of you, who last night made me feel the sea after a long time, over the strings of my mundane boredom, under a moon ungrateful and too far away. In the ears of those who feel you did not hear back the desire to live, to have restored a body without a claim of malice, new shell with your mouth, my skin, fresh wonder.
E 'for this reason that I thought I'd give you just that dear seahorse, out of place and out of water as they always are, too.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
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I can not breathe. I have a kappa on the head, I'm not concentrating. I have another letter on the lips, it makes me fly. producers then began to Starmie also nice. mathematical dramatic that I will never have. now I no longer think of the wheel. my sand and your warmth that they invented summer out of season. Article 527 that breaks all the nights in the playground.
perhaps life is not enough for all the projects I have, but certainly these projects are worth a lifetime.
Monday, February 1, 2010
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know that only love can heal the wounds of love. but it is reasonable to suspect that the theory of the nail and fall-back form the mask and the root of a relationship fresh and young. 've Seen places, movements, sensations, speculations and fears have already been tested that have recurred as impossibly renewed but new.
me awake but still dream. I feel swollen lips. my routine consists of problems and now that there appears to be, problematizing their absence. feelings forced sad recycled, autoconvincimenti trivial. finally there's nothing here like that.
is not the medicine to an old evil, rather than the bright color to a faded picture. the difference is remarkable, if you think about it. the infinite small that I do live finds its uniqueness in being timeless. I do not remember anything, I do not remember anyone. seems to only answer questions that I never managed to ask.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Sunday, January 3, 2010
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happens when I sing, I remember singing
what I wanted to forget.
pustule of my heart,
dance track of all my mental adventure.