Monday, February 15, 2010

What Can I Do With My 6700

Masks of lava.



Surprised my loop with specific questions.
I grab by the shoulders and shake her clearly trying to escape.

All the stories of the last ten years are deposited
the bottom of a bottle I see half-full.
Empty water basin would desecrate my belly.

There are things that must be preserved
per tutto il tempo necessario a capire a cosa siano servite.
Così sono queste storie.

Offuscate, ingrandite, addobbate a festa, ridicolizzate, truccate.

Lapilli improvvisi schizzano dal collo della bottiglia per venirmi in aiuto.
Per offrirmi una maschera weaknesses in the day.

avoid the misery of those questions that creep.
The questions that offend most of the insults.
What slips like splinters in my empty identity.

Here are my stories,
my story, I can not lie.

I owe to shake every time I feel the absence.


[Photo by Eugenia Vagnetti
http://www.flickr.com/photos/tiger_lily/ ]

Create Your Own Wrestling Company

Give me land.


Looking albums of strangers has a cathartic effect.

Show that has surrounded the lives of many.


Sprecata.



In foto da manichini.

In light trade.

In buying cold.


Datemi terra, vi prego.

E lo sporco delle vostre scarpe.