Questions To Ask An Olympic Athelete

Acoustic night with a soft voice

red stripes on the skin, fingers
signs of burning,
surged.

The salad that I carry around the eyes gives me fresh air, but not enough, does not mask the loneliness.

I lie down and sweat with stripes, I wake up, The warning says 13.27 but it's dark outside. Should be skipped the light. The heart beats irregularly. A moth on the window sill. I turn the fan up and approached him.

If tomorrow they told me who you would not believe. It is not just a matter of definition. The definitions are used to hold the pieces together, not to be afraid. This restlessness as electricity passes through me uncontrollably. Maybe too intense.

If you could see beyond it, if I could do the same.

the corner of my grandmother's living room, between the wall and the belief that it is now home to my mother, my father kept the pail brumeggio and things for fishing. My grandmother complained about the stench.

I have a place for me as the one for the bucket. Sure cool and dry. With a specific smell, unmistakable.
I wish I had a bucket full of brumeggio on which to sit down and draw one thousand colorful fish. Look at the sea that does not stop.

Today the air is fresh, oleander red on the terrace near the placid waves, my eyes are wells. You are inside a glass in the back of a garage.

Tomorrow we'll see.

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INKIOSTRARCI

Woodbury Commons Chanel

Sunday, 18 July 2010 ARCI Pescomaggiore VISIT: Ecovillage DIY STRAW.



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Bosch Boost Compesator

Heart of cactus

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I woke up this morning to the deafening sound of garbage trucks.
Six and fifty-four.
Not even five hours of sleep.
My hair was twisted a wrist. Who knows what they do
those there at night, when not in control. The lungs
asphalt and dark circles around my chin.

But yesterday I would not change a minute.

Weakest Interaction Between Molecules

Sonata No toll on unfinished tune piano

not sleep too long. I
of blue under the eyes that not even the Prussians. He
night I heard the fan run for a while and I held 'the paw of the cat.
Then I surrendered to sweat.

At home I like the book collection. The fact that the three of a blazing Sunday in the street to meet friends when I have not seen for some time. I like to open the drawer to find socks and find six or seven ties of skin that do not put for years.

Saturday evening in Turin was trying to become unstuck and off the fog that often synthetic layer that envelops me every time I finish a story.
walked along the river with a nice dress and sandals, talking too fast, but without much to say.
I smoked two or three cigarettes and drank a beer in a giant glass of like popcorn. I also argued with the bouncer.
It all seemed very natural.

Yesterday, on the train, I could not sleep. Even the discography Mogwai has managed to get bored enough.
Landed in Emilia, the thermal shock me cower in the face with a shovel. Rattling like a sheet wrung out.

I'm still trying to recover.

But the bulk is done. Slaughter
white blade. All kosher. Certificate the rabbi.
As some might say, a professional job. We
incellofanare everything and send it to the courier.

I stop for a while 'looking at the spines of a cactus that grows.
Maybe tonight I will remember to give him a drink.
Meanwhile Monday.

Minnetonka Moccasins 55106

In moderate weather and movement Allegretto

Like a minuet revisited in melancholy, and I do
measured little steps and fearful,
tilting the hills like fools and wielding enormous eyes.

Yesterday, walking through the lights of the shops now closed
surrounded by a blaze that came from outside than from within,
I understood what needed to be done.
Not that it strictly depends on you.

I have discovered something buried under a thousand sheets, towels
mirrors for bereavement invented
stale sandwiches and wilted dahlia.

I need a coat of white.
's all.

Tamazepam How Long Do You Sleep For

ternary

I slept with you on the palm as a carillon.
plays music every time.

I woke
embraced the black cushion of bad thoughts,
unable to drive out the sound in the dream and close your fist.

So he takes me a thought on this train sizzling

frozen and my empty shell of harmonic echoes
that I find it hard to repeat.

At seven-forty-eight,
late for my morning foil,
on my face crumpled
sinking derelict in the cup of the palms
'd see a frightened electric storage,
a rain of atoms.

that this is the soul?

You want a piece?

We could put it in a jar and give it to drink, see
ago.
See if it grows, if leafs.
teach her to sing.

Sit here and start playing.

I'm listening.