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
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