I wake up in my unhappy oasis of leftovers. Thoughts of mud and waste. I'm high. I look up at the moon and arrive on time dizzy. The vertigo is not fear of falling. But even want to fly. It is simply the reminder of failure. It is the gulf that calls you, tells you "so you fall, sink. You will return to the bottom. Drown in the fund. "
back down.
Stroking the head of a dog who spits blood and see him die. Then go to a concert. Leo is why we are? Losing the pieces in the labyrinth of the Minotaur. Pascoli was boring. I'm boring. From Cupinoro you could see your home. Forgettable. Winnable. I would have ended in a corner if I had not been so clumsy and awkward.
In my dreams there is no better place for me.
In my dreams there is no better place for me.
In my dreams there is no better place for me.
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