i run away

i run away to big cities which lure your brain like a drug. i want to be absorbed, chewed, transformed.

i want to set myself free. desire is evil. i let you go.

ex nihil

nihil fit.

6 in the morning, fermina throws her guts up.
6 in the morning fermina hides in the bathtub filled with warm water.
6 in the morning fermina throws her guts up.

10 in the morning frank is dead.
10 in the morning fermina wears red lipstick and stiletto black shoes.
10 in the morning fermina dances on frank's grave.

frank love love love love Frank! love!

If you died a thousand deaths it still wouldn't be enough!
I'd sell my soul to the devil to see you come alive just to be able to kill you again and again and again.

I want to fuck you and while I'm on top put a gun in your mouth, see your nothingness in the eyes and then shoot. It would be too easy.. Slashing my wrists and filling you with my blood would perhaps be better.

The fires of hell, the furies and the demons, I wish them all to you. I want you to be not unhappy, miserable. I wish you pain ten million times stronger than mine. Sorrow, spleen,hatred, contempt, disgust,disappointment, abandonment, loneliness, betrayal, pain. It's my cocktail from me to you. With all my energy and all my love Frank.Love Frank! Love!

6 in the morning Fermina throws her guts up.
6 in the morning Fermina hides in the bathtub filled with warm water.

ex nihil nihil fit.

sleep

frank tastes like furious storm and lightning.pure cold depth, bluemarine.

f & f sleeping naked, her always glued to him, each dreaming of the other.

..of what i want and what he can give me. normality is overrated.

faible

blumarine you.
and me?
plasma.

tectonic movements

Empty rain slaps night in the face.
The bathtub is filled with huge pieces of ice and black butterflies. Fermina steps in naked, the butterflies disintegrate and the ice melts instantly.

"You, I life you.Because when I crush your bones and chew on your flesh, I'm feeding myself with beauty and sublime poetry. When you are not, I feed myself with nothingness. No lows, no ups. Pure nothing. And it's the only circumstance I can start to fall in love with myself."

wired .4 abuse

friendly and open. highly empathetic. tolerant (to pain as well). blind trust. maximum give. that's me. positive sociability and willing to take up more crap than allowed on any normal person's agenda. attracted to dominant, extrovert and excitement- seeking men.
frank. my psychopath i send my girlfriend to the asylum boy. who wants to convert his anger into dominance.
i am a dominant myself. and as soon as i tie a man up feeling ceases to exist. i get bored and look for another prey.
sensitive and good listener,oh he likes that.and i like the terrible crazy look in his eyes which turn absolute black when i whisper him poetry.
i get him , i get him all. an dthe fucking thing is that, the more i empathize, the more he ties me up.
i see his insecurities clearly. i see the picture he sees and the bigger one that he doesn't see. i feel i could go away anytime i wanted. but i just don't want to.

the truth. i, i, i. i want him, this bad bad bad him. i want the sex and the laughter, the talk and the anger, the poetry and the air made of exploding particles, the euphoria, the trance, the taste of caramel, the tattooed man making me breakfast. the fighting and the yelling, the absurd and the pain. the violence and the bitterness. i want to filter it all through mySelf.

and its all in my little head.
he's zero empathy, unable to keep a relationship. will never love me.
so why the fuck do i stick around? i say to myself, as long as there's no pain,i can stick around. so its an army of me against and with myself to make me a princess, detached enough to be able to stick around.
besides, it would be so damn boring without this story.

"i need to start fucking other boys as well. excuse my lack of poetry. "

Don Giovanni

Right in between being awake and asleep, a sudden shot of honey is injected into my muscles. A shot of honey into my neurons, making the synapses burn. A short circuit of happiness, you, smiling.

Patience is not one of my virtues. What's the point when you can grab things quickly and feed yourself? Why are all the people so afraid?It's better to be going places, even if it means ending up against a wall, instead of going Nowhere.

Dear, I'm not in the mood for your moods.

So when Don Giovanni's third act begins, you can kiss my tush goodbye.

interView

what do u hate?
insomnia. the way i kid myself. compromise. my laziness.

what do you love?
strawberry milkshake.

what's on your "to do" list?
face myself. stop wasting time. never leave the house without wearing lipgloss. delete all the music on my pc and throw away half of the stuff i have.

describe yourself in a word.
motivated.

what's your nickname?
desperate-for- love

what's your biggest desire now?
becoming myself.

I- YOU

With colours which taste like blood, I paint You.
I paint you in my mind an then I worship you.
Yeah.

8

I feel it coming. Im gonna do it again. Be weak, go for the strong and negative sensation, be unable to let go, fall and get crushed.
How do I keep myself strong and standing?

milk

Milk and honey.
I feel that the earth beneath my feet could melt anytime now. In my mind, it's raining. Literally, sweet, translucently/But it will not. It never does. The world will continue to slip forward and we shall slip with it, some of us pretending to be happy, others loving their void and misery and others knowing that the button for happiness is in our brain.
In my brain, it's raining. Literally. Milk and honey.

pluie

Some people are butterflies. Through painful shots, they inject inks into their wings so colour will change continuously. From blue to violet. From violet to red, from red to green, from green to yellow. From yellow to magenta. The weakest ones die really young. The stronger ones continue to throw themselves against textured walls for long white years.

A butterfly lives inside my brain.

Its natural colour is aggressive violet. It feeds itself on my(succulent)madness.
Its wings shiver cunningly in absolute silence,while it stands completely still.

Fermina Daza listens to Yumeji's theme.

amore, mi chiedo

Rita Pavone can give you diabetes. Especially at nine in the morning when you're singing her stuff with a dumb look of happiness on your face. Perchè tu, perchè tu sei l'amoooore mio, lalalalaaaaaaaa. There is no transfer of meaning from the music to the person. There are no projections of the self. No olfactive mystery to trasnscend the experience. Just a bewildering cold now. Me and him, it's pure magnetic levitation.

mmm

every day another red rose dies. but that's ok. on a long term their smell would probably asphyxiate fermina. all of a sudden "could have been" has completely disappeared. somebody give my brain a little massage,ah. i'm gonna get myself a pair of angel wings and go around town eating strawberries.

morninG

She likes the smell of her own blood. 12 red roses. A white bed, like snow. "Nessun dorma" fills the air. Fermina Daza walks around the room, barefoot.

Buttered requiem

This Sunday I live outside time. My heart is a gray blue morning of indifference. you you you. Your skin, your tattoo. You cause energy explosions in my brain.Emotional shocks every time I see you. Yesterday I felt caramel melting on my tongue when I realized it was you. you you you because I choose you. Because I want you to. Because you wear the jeans directly on your skin. Because you don't give a fuck. Oh, oh, oh, I see all the shit in your life. I see all the fucking things which are so fucking wrong with you.
Frank, I am stronger than you!

^^^

It's a perfectly circular night and we have sent time to hell, choosing to consume our Selves rampantly. It's snowing heavily. A jungle of colors explodes out of nowhere, thousands of butterflies. And the sound of their wings is a primary pulse. Everything spins.

Frank, I miss you.

Fluo hotel

Amy's father didn't love her so she grew up not loving herself. That's why she looks for men who will hurt her ( a reiteration of the father-daughter relationship). When they prove they don't love her, instead of going away, she stays. Not only did her father not love her, humiliate and terrorize her, but she also had a perfect five year relationship with a boy who raped her.

Frank grew up in the middle of a divorce and as an adult he probably hates his mother. I guess this is where all the lack of respect and hatred towards women comes from. In psychotherapy, psychopathic men like him ( huge levels of self appreciation, absence of guilt, absence of empathy, promiscuous tendencies, aggressiveness) are called "predators", they seduce through a "passive-aggressive" method which Frank applied successfully in Amy's case.

One night they casually met in the club. It was enough for her to see him to feel that thing called "happiness". They were both so high that they kept spilling their drinks, "you're a very special girl" he said. They went home, she put on "Witchcraft" and did the striptease for him. He laid on the couch with a skitzo look, stoned, unable to react to the clothes she would throw on him. She felt as if, while taking her clothes off, she were actually tearing her flesh off , offering him her soul.
She spilled pear juice on herself and he started eating her with a hunger which was synonymous to despair. She strapped his shirt and they fucked. When they stopped they started talking and things got pretty tense. He was angry and wanted to be left alone, she wanted to get into his soul no matter what.

He slapped her and she began to cry. Instead of hugging her, he continued to bark, accusing her of being weak. She shouted she was not his property. And then she went down on him and he became weak. She was on top, he held her so tight against his chest, it was the perfect expression and exorcism of despair and mal d'etre, the absolute abandonment. And she loved the whole soap opera.

After her father died, Amy met a boy who was just like him. Mentally disturbed as well, he fucked her brains pretty well. Abandoned by her best friend and living in a place where she did not know anyone, Amy became borderline. To this day she feels that the only solid reason which keeps her from suicide when the absence of meaning in her life is much too obvious is represented by her mother who doesn't deserve to suffer even more than she already has.

Frank is 32 and has smashed five cars so far. His body is full of scars. When she kisses his caramel skin, the scars melt into her mouth like tears.When they have sex she likes it when he strangles her and I believe there is a chance for things to go crazy... Just like there is a possibility for her to do a completely irrational thing out of the despair of being abandoned.

Fluo store.Opening.

New York.In the heart of the night we're burning candles and sipping on luxurious savory drinks making our minds even stranger to themselves. Portishead, Undenied has been on repeat for at least 40 minutes. Hentai projections on the wall, my husband is wearing a violet sweater, like the first time I ever laid eyes on him. Violet and green. He's smoking with his eyes lost while in the bathtub I touch myself with black water lillies.
Naked and still wet I lay lazy on black satin sheets. Frank will arrive soon and it will start snowing white cherry flowers. Frank is my lover. And my husband's lover.

He'll cover me in vanilla and ecstacy and after he's done with me, I'll be drinking absynthe, contemplating them. The sauna will be slowly filling with violet butterflies while we play climax through orgyastic dimensions.