Nonreligeous Wedding Ceremony Programs

continue to feed the dark

not take it anymore.
I need to give us a stop.
I need many, many things.
Especially all those who had been distorted.
And those who fail and which would need an unspeakable at the moment, do not even seem to be priorities.
It is strange, and it is a continued repression of their being themselves.
dark times?
Of course it's always too late to be done, what is really needed.
It is always easy .. I do not even need to strive ..
Just open eyes.
And I know, but apparently I can not see it, let alone pass it, or maybe it is not the same.
But apparently dark times .. no?
I love and ever more intensely but ..
hurts too much to love in the total uncertainty that we can all
break into a thousand pieces.
Once the food, or food, or continue to try to weaken
until the puzzle is not clear until the pieces have no desire to reward kissing.
When the one hand there is this possibility,
the end,
this thought is still present, then the other
there will never be the strength and certainty,
there will never be a smile or a gentle,
only fear and coldness.
Phase rock.
Tetrafarmaco imperfect.

Carrot Juice Or Chemo

We ..

SIAMOOOOOOOO WITH DAN-THE-TI-Nope DESIDERIOOOO
YOU WANT A FIREARM BANG-BANG-BANG YOU WANT A FIREARM BANGBANGBANG!


man made of water, useless'
THERE IS NO COMPARISON IN FEAR!

admit that's not really certainty still
but I think may be a kind of forecast,
a kind of radical change things I too .. .

not say no, do not you think, does not have a stimulus.
not believe in a higher level of
things you hide in a place called "I do not care"
condemns the pain of my life.

Enough! I need you!
Shake! I need you! Now! Give up
to understand, to give up your dignity,
agree to head down the process of assimilation

Enough! I need you!
Shake! I need you! Now! Why do you condemn
pain my life!


,
I feel burned coal in an abandoned inn hot for at least thirty burnt to the wrath of some crazy indomitable ready to do away with all this hypocrisy, with all that waiting at the counter, with all that nonsense and friendly conversation humming of the mountain men,
with all those reports you want, with all those liabilities
depression that made him a
failed, a man without character, without interest.
E 'color anger, bricks nausea, and paper wall-of-fear
is plaster mixed sadness, cement is indomitable doubt.
E 'silence of the place, the abandonment. The time after
vented in all its beauty stops.


Yeah, the time sooner or later leave you alone, sitting on a chair among debris and cables
the dim light of a shattered window in disbelief.
E 'imagination that gives rise to standing alone,
the art of photography to help reconstruct the pieces.
For a moment I seem to see it,
yes, that crazy, the one sitting at the bar, sad and dejected,
without anyone, without certainty, without art.
I seem to see the bartender and the bar,
people at the table, families, children and old.
also seems to me to see the floor and the stairs,
the pool is filled for a moment,
clean and warm ready for use.


Maybe it was to get in, at dinner, goats on the hills and grazing cows, typical foods and big, clumsy waiter decorated with dirty dishes. I seem to see that beautiful woman in the melancholy madman fell in love. Too alone, disheveled, ill-treated in order to be noticed or welcomed. Too strange, too shy, too thin, too old , too quiet, too inconvenient. In this society you can not afford Sgarro, you can not afford not to keep pace with the times, you can not afford to be especially yourself.

Eight-thirty. counter of the inn.
"Give me the usual"
"Red?"
"I told her the usual"
Glass.
bottle of red wine first down at the bottom of the glass then until the mid established.
"I'm give more, today "
" It 's a beautiful day? "
" Since he is interested in me? "
" I ask, do not usually say other things, what went well pay them "
" Not today, today is different, different for me, different for everyone "
The pleasure of the palate, the wine swirl in the glass, the reflection of his face.
He looked, at times sharp at times with red skin, sometimes sprinkled
entirely on wine.
And spinning, spinning and more harmoniously, without breaks or changes of direction.
Eight-fifty.
banknote.
"Keep the change"
head light, quiet steps, the creak of the door and slam its closure.
Time slowed, as if their desires to achieve were all at the same time.
the back.
Scale.
control intruders.
a hurry.
The smell of gasoline on the floor.
Box.
Match.
Scintilla failed.
Match number two.
broken.
Match number three,
spark, flame , bright eyes, not even a sigh, the launch ... BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM.
Well, now I feel that spark,
I feel the smell of gasoline,
I feel the anger and despair of crazy, I feel
the rotary motion of red wine in the glass ,
I feel the path of the final launch
e. ..
I feel the explosion.


Contra

Reference Letter For Study Abroad

Updates


Apart from the mood of this dark period where the anxiety, anguish, confusion, depression and uncertainty of all assail me, I still my path to university. I am happy to have chosen the University of Verona, not so much for the university, the organization and the place [which are pretty bad] but more for the people I met, the environment and what I'm studying.

Programme:
November 24 EXAM pre-appeal of the History of Philosophy from Thales to
St. Thomas
29 or November 30 for pre-EXAMINATION Appeal History of education and pedagogy
From birth to Don Milani
December 9 EXAMINATION minimum knowledge
December 13 REVIEW cultural anthropology
Part three
In early January EXAMINATION pre-appeal of the History of Modern Philosophy
Part
In mid-January the Oral History of Philosophy and History of Pedagogy
Philosophy on Plato, Gorgias and Kant, pedagogy in three books dedicated to old age.

say that superimpegnata , also say that they are not ready to spend some pre-appeals
and take them to the oral material for lack of time.

I want to know where is Dony, as it is ..

other how are you? Eni? Fighter? Alice? My dear Japanese? Silvia? Miriam? Musi? AND ALL THE OTHER? Appearance updates from you.

Sorry if you do not pass often, if not comment, but really my hands are tied by the study and from commuter Rovereto-Verona with lessons until 17e20. Good start weeks A hug

Lately many days I think .. C'est beau jour pour
a mourir, c'est un beau jour pour mourir ...

Contra

How Do You Take Out Stud Earrings

Nevrosidisolitudinemistonauseaomicida

hate surprise
and be one step away from the need
you want to go one step further
six foam on the waves of thoughts that rush

on the hot rocks of this island


HEAD OF PLASTIC

live or die
I will stay here suspended
and all I know,
is dodge the wind.

SILENCE

Before going viaa .. I am an infinitesimal
me you me
only an infinitesimal part.
are an infinitesimal me you me
only an infinitesimal part.

GURDAMI, push me, LOOK AT ME LOOK AT HOW ABOUT

Volami next,
plows the time,
drink the huge breath forever,
watch me change shape after shape
and still breathe
your hair into a new day.

old defects.

I only know the sun only?
And I speak evil, but I think
worse.

THE WIND OUT MAYBE WE blow 'away from here,
THE EMPTY HAND woke up several' FREE.

Canenero back to sleep.
Away from these places
away from old fears
off these looks
away from boredom vulgar
away from the injury full of violence
fine dust of indifference.

FREE AS JUST FOR
give your street name and the last answer.
Away from those who give up and not let you groped
away from those who will not give up lying and mud
in all those blackmail hung out to wait
DEVICE AS DEFINED IN LOVE.

eyes down when you walk
in the foot that you treasure?
Eyes low skin of snow
in the foot that you treasure?
straight in the face never look at me.

THAT I HAVE TO SAY YET AGAIN STRONG ....

ps: do not you draw drastic conclusions

ps: I feel like a balloon is inflated more and more without the possibility of salvation

Variables For Science Fair Tooth Decay

Exibart.com

Exibart an article on the collective public in Imperia that are present with six of my works.

http://www.exibart.com/notizia.asp?IDNotizia=33545&IDCategoria=1


News section of the blog is available the catalog of the event.

.

Stone Onlinelektor Pl

THERE

change my mind.

I do not exist for anyone.

NOT EXIST.

Fuck everything.

press Power.

Stop feelings to you.

Stop Thoughts to you.

Stop Concerns to you.

Stop Would you and your needs.

Stop You and Us.

Stop all the others.

Stop.

And fuck you too fucking unconscious, stop biting my stomach.

I hate you.

From now on I do not give a fuck about you me or any of our body, in my brain it's what will happen.

Anguish Fuck you too, with your train black and long hair in my face ..

Fuck You Anxiety, tachycardia with your breath and your breath ..

Consequences Fuck you, you are going to fall on deaf ears because now then you can set on fire in me I do not give a fuck .. more

Fuck the future, fuck what you promises, programs fuck, fuck, pink and sand castles.

Fuck you to the dark periods, which arrived so quietly behind that you do not even remember ..

want to fuck love, fuck the sweetness.

FUCK.

I never want to 'hear anything.

NOTHING

And it succeed '.

MODE ON PHASE ANESTHETIC

Move away from the yellow line through.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

EW THE uncaring, VIOLENCE W, W heeling, THE GROUP W, W THE NICOTINE

C'EST POUR UN BEAU JOUR MOURA

I do not want comments on this post,

avoid writing thank

Contra

Discovery Direct Rewards

ComeBackOnlyLoneliness part two




ComeBackOnlyLoneliness

Every time I come back there is always and only loneliness, apathy gestures.
cold calls, stalactites of daily stresses and future commitments.
And each time point. Every time I hope that in addition to the list of daily events there is also something more, something small and on fire, something that beats, a little hedgehog that opens with a caress, a small meteorite full of universes cosmic significantly.
Whenever this drive from the stomach and bowels, abdomen and slowly up the gorge, between the vocal cords and the palate.
Not even a start, only a continuous push for something supersensible in all directions. as if a hand came through a cut in the stomach at the top, first as a fist then open to all five fingers deforming the wall .. And so in my throat, a hand squeezes the vocal cords, unites seemingly turning into a big and long X-chromosome, and thus also on the palate, behind the uvula a hand trying to get out of the neck. And the salt in his eyes, they burn and cry, cry and burn what it lacks soul .. love. And the distance is a lottery, and commitments are a perennial bad luck continued, "not knowing" and "postpone". Everything is hypothetical, everything is nothing until it actually is. Everything is hard, dry, expired, apathetic, cold, damp.
In the end you can smell, but this is not an end. This is the smell of loneliness, stress and desire of love, desire and will to the role of attention important for someone else, perhaps it is rather important among all the other distractions. You are evil, but not everyone is able to show what its like, not everyone is willing to say anything, likely to explain the mood and needs.
Will this body to take my soul in a cage, a prison of emotions of elevation, the censorship of freedom, failed to return to the state of nature. for free can be so bad that the first dedicated to the philosophy, truth and knowledge, but then we must die to get rid of their cell body. die. But who says that the extreme suffering of the soul can not remove the 'importance which normally takes the body?
Up to void, to make a single first floor: the chaos, the cyclone.
That tornado that sweeps away everything except the hand that pushes, knotting and deforms. Who says you can not die inside? Still temporarily.

Who says you can not make an effort? Who says I do not make the biggest mistake you? Who says that this distance must necessarily divide? Who says I can live without you I can not.


And without you does it mean without your attention,
your sweetness, your consideration for me between the commitments of life.
Perhaps there too.
not only work commitments, sports, legislative and passions.
Maybe ..
There Too.

And I say this with the strings Voice and chromosomal with the hand that is now double in the stomach and the palate, eyes burning and crying, his head and heart that wants to go out that does not want to think more [and vice versa]. I no longer want to feel bad, not with you, not for you, not for us.

Byebye my darling
this night is going to go on
and whitout you, whitout your thought



ps: do not read as you want, no I did not left with my boyfriend and I will not be with him, and moments that are just steps I feel tonight Contra

Give A Sample Of The Database

comebackonlyloneliness






Again
away and find myself to embrace the void ..

The empty .. I wonder .. What does it taste? !

Acerbo funeral and post-nuclear herbicide mnemonic
napalm on the fire hydrant and living underground for the dying
tappoaschiopposudecelebraticonventidisantisaccenti.
flow.
The words and concepts.
and spontaneously decompose the chemical reactions involved in the work.
Dissentirecreasfiduciaordineesicurezzadallapartedelcittadino.
ScroccracK.
cracKcracK.
Pupils small, tiny,
ringing in the ears, confusion,
disconnection.
Vena Ardecore annoying punk.
spiezzo There are two dragon like the monster of the lake to build a lego and do so in the fire fuego .
I want you to fear, to tremble a bit
'your false certainties.
I want you to look in my eyes and know that I will analyze,
you read my mind and I read your body.
I want you to know that you make me sick,
things you own now you have .
I would spit in my face, to destroy
words and then see you fall,
return home to be with the same sand you dammed in the form of clay your damn mind encrusted with tartar and dementia.
I hurt you, destroy
where you look in the mirror to show you how many pieces I could play infinite puzzles and of course no solution that I could think of nothing ricomporvi after having been made.
I softly tell you that I am the terrorist, I am an immigrant, I am a political criminal, I, the subversive, the witch I, I magician, I rebel, I was the suicide bomber, I was the Satanist, I am the thief, the swindler I, am the Afghan el 'Iranian nuclear'm the boss, I was the genius of poisons, I am the anarchist, I Charon.
In no man's land Avaz avoidance and dead bodies are querra with someone but I do not know who actually
and was the great storm in the evening after dark and the rain is fine.
You skittles mangiatraffico paranoid, obsessive manias are dummies dipped in wax and painted on canvas megaphones without casting volume. You
models of spectra from London design with a giant clock instead of the pupils, and why
are no tar and salt in boiling water that makes your taste even more a la mode.
You are what you eat, you are on the table, the limbs are torn and stinking corpses of your previous, and all those who kill as cannibals in which you are torn to pieces, all your ephemeral identities aged every twenty four hours a day and changed into mounds Holocaust back to life by showing that in the eyes of those who see such horror-monster manjimbu you are.

And all this is my disgust and much more is hidden.
The girl turns into monster polite and respectful of anger and wrinkles.

are the mad puppeteer who holds your strings.


ps: Let alerts:
-no I have not left all is well with the boy-no
the text does not concern him and me or our history or our relationship or non-nneso
are not angry with you
-no I'm not dressing the role of a psychopath, I am
-no there is no precise reason for this, I just know that is what I feel and think for a while 'time
is the vein that I molesta
are madly in love with you-are-no cryptic
I do not expect a complete understanding of the text-
the question "What does it taste like?" there is a total departure from post-holiday return home from my boy-
Aliceandmyworld you've just got it, and maybe you're the only one can hear it in every way that I have written
-not for this you can not understand very well what you can try


CONTRA
good weekend