domenica 5 luglio 2009
Può bastare.
Io una mi sono rotta. Di fare sabato del martedi. Di situazioni limite in città sconosciute. Di cattive compagnie. Di uscire quattro giorni su sette. Di feste marce.Di amare senza costruire. Di cercare li dove non c'è niente da scoprire. Di volere la felicità a tutti i costi. E che costi. Di parlare senza fare. Di essere sfasciata dei sentimenti. Tertium non datur.
Non capisco più chi sono.
giovedì 5 marzo 2009
Yellow
lunedì 2 marzo 2009
mental white.wall
so here we are, having become something we may have not wanted. but now's too late. why is reality attractive only from behind a window of dizziness?
you've got an impressive vocabulary dear. how do you do it, being so surrealistic i mean?
and here i a, declaring my meaning-creating infatuation for and to a white wall. a sort of mental fist fucking, pretty damaging for your health through the excruciating headaches it gives.
finally, some peace.
mercoledì 18 febbraio 2009
how long for
It simply can not be you...
This smell of blood is making me dizzy. A blue fairy came out of the absinthe flame and is licking my neck. Carmina Burana and violently broken glasses.one after another against the white wall. I love the sound of mirrors being smashed. Pieces of broken glass and I walk around barefoot. The bruises you left on my legs are blue, turning violet. Ecstasy and agony, the magic leash you put around my neck. Whip me some more, you know I like it. Sex and violence, from the window of the tenth floor I contemplate the idea of suicide. This hurts like hell. A box match with myself and my mouth too is full of blood. A dose of cocaine that will make your brain explode. A vicious circle of decay and futile suffering. A youth wasted on corrupt pleasure. madness is the only thing mad people can offer you. I run. I used to chase meaning. Now I only chase fire and I burn everything and I don’t give a fuck about meaning.
giovedì 12 febbraio 2009
isn't
mercoledì 4 febbraio 2009
giovedì 29 gennaio 2009
Sculpture
"The end of illusion brings the end of meaning. Is this the price for freedom?
He kissed me and when I opened my eyes, my body soaked in pleasure, before me stood a man mad. Afraid, prey to black demons, aggressive and evil. And I knew I'd love him.
Trapped within my ribs I carry the illusion of him. His soft voice in my mind makes my ears bleed and his flesh dissolves in my saliva. Like an octopus I squeeze black ink from my chest incessantly because we are not.
And now I know that I don't know anything."
Medusa