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His ...


I'll pretend it's raining outside, or that a fog out there not even seeing the tip of the nose. The
all seasoned with a strong melancholy jazz piano with keys that moves too fast and with a voice to heat millions of homes empty.
is an afternoon like any other, like many others, a piece of me 12 years old I left, someone told me that unjustified and only a dog, but those who spend some shiny eye (thanks:.)
The university ranks a little slow, I have too much confusion, too much to stay behind, nothing that I regret the fact, but here is how long for the winter cold, snow white and clean, infuse light and shadow are the children of the same father. Try
you to stay in a house that looks like a furnace, by itself, or rather not be there just for luck. Try
you to have a heart that burns and ignites, to have your head is always full of the same thing, drinking liters of coca cola to feel less sweet, to be scared of eyes and distant voices of white, the arms are too long and you know you want to have to hurt.
Love is able to create an infinite jumble, where billions of times you fall scrape your knee all the sacrosanct "times."
Someone told me not to fear, someone said that I will have plenty of time to stay, but I say that I'm afraid because it's like standing in front of a huge palace of crystal, some facets are crisp and clear, others obscure and confused, but this beauty is very clear, so clear that if there will never be rebuilt will hurt more than any other time, more than any time I am stopped by a small crave one thing ... my eyes would heal my wounds bleed close down altogether or leave permanently, so to fill rivers and lakes, so much to fill the hearts and souls, not all just one: his own.

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Who is there who is not there.


Someone recently showed me note: or are smiling or are more melancholic.
To be honest I do not know very well the epicenter of all this mess, but I know it's worse than being drunk.
To tell you the truth I'm a little confused do not know if it's the fault of all this mushy stage, past or otherwise. Before Conlie
reacted angrily, then I learned to react with happiness, but now I've learned that something you should not drag on well.
But maybe I've figured out what's wrong, it's satisfaction and some things do not really satisfy me and then tell a bunch of lies to myself, it must surely be that.
Then it's time to roll up their sleeves, gather the red leaves, the branches green and golden weeds and burn them all, instill in him (if indeed it was so even though I doubt it) it took only a little water and earth ...
Why I can always go so close and then I can think of escape?
balls!
) alemno I started writing again ... n'altra)