corridors filled door ajar or closed to open ....
you know that the best thing would get out of this fucking decadent palace.
"Get this fucking building."
Instead you create something morbid slow and silent,
drives me up the stairs and look out into new corridors,
always darkest,
increasingly bare, crumbling plaster and
shadows.
While lunging feel a lot of hands trying to hold on to me, ask me how
continue, what to do and what not to do, how to behave, which pronounce sentence. How
encyclopedia sensitivity listen and counsel.
"You know? I would like to tell you how much anger I feel inside.
What I find terribly wrong ... everything is too unfair.
so unfair as to be unbearable and overwhelming. "
What remains?
the unlimited world of the mind, where everything is malleable in terms of desires more or less real. You can go back and change at will things, a
,
ten
percent
thousand times,
up to get the perfect situation.
jump here and there with the thoughts, dialogue with me, you, the furniture, ornaments and the deaf, those that even if you shout, well ... .. you can not hear.
I can not stop quest'implacabile cascade of words, I could go on indefinitely, perhaps the only great passion of mine is writing.
My cage encloses a soul heavy.
It 's a jungle of tangled synapses, I try to move clinging to afferent fibers and efferent almost like lianas, and then fall into the gray swamp and be enveloped in the quicksand of my thoughts vicious.
attract.
repress large waves of anger and hatred.
balance that I hate showing off all those faces smiling at nothing, unaware and ignorant for the most of everything that surrounds them.
when you stop taking with me, I take it with people.
E 'sole black hardcore.
iO and Alice are back.
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