'I do not know if it rocks your
pale face appeared to me, or of unknown distances
smile You were the ivory china
Front shining or young
Sister de la Mona Lisa ...' The Chimera
Dino Campana
not want to die ...
And seek not easy eternity of a razor blade, tearing, which enters the wrists, digging ... How
knife through butter ...
not want my blood runs in scannatoio a bath ... In
private slaughterhouse behind the curtains.
I would like to attend, impassive, my punishment ...
find the courage - the courage crazy - the thought was right, proper ...
look down without emotion, as you open the electronic gates ...
Slipping in the hallways, touching the bars, following the road that leads to cell ...
blame and punishment.
There are no mitigating circumstances, unless the visions, premonitions, dreams - Solid as the blood flows in my veins - can be a mitigating factor ...
O almeno un indizio di temporanea incapacità…
Scendere nel cuore della solitudine, le coperte sottobraccio e il sapone in mano…
Come nei film in bianco e nero, silenzioso e solenne…
Richard Burton con la faccia segnata, lo sguardo che taglia il granito, i muscoli inutilmente tesi…
Giù, nei cubicoli numerati, nella cripta con lavabo e servizi dove l’eco di molte vite risuona ancora…
E’ questo l’epilogo di una vicenda sbagliata?
Una vicenda che voglio raccontare, anche se nessuno mi ascolta ed anche se non sono un bravo narratore…
Una storia in bilico fra il sesso, la realtà della carne, la passione ambigua da un lato…
And contrary to the visions, dreams, longings that make us slip from the bottom in the other reality ...
Where possible things multiply and the shadows take shape ...
Where men shot dead, fall and rise again as if nothing
... Where there is no guilt and no remorse and myths of the sea gulls flying around as
... But when you return, wet and drunk, through the narrow alleys of awakening
... You realize that you're not the hero and that you can not play forever with life and with time ...
Understand that it is better not to have even begun, that story ...
At any time, in front of us there a road that forks ...
And there is the right direction ...
regret having taken the wrong moment and to be entered through that door ...
What time is about to close behind you, perhaps forever ...
Now that the myth trivially has disappeared, taking the form of a lifeless body, under the moon ... I do not want to die ...
Yet death could be at this point, the only release ...
The real solution to a problem without a solution ...
The obvious remedy for all ills ...
The final time-out. I see a cold
profile behind the door - remorse, guilt, suggestion - I spy, I team ...
Crouch posing feline, canine and still prepares wait ...
do not try to escape, not even try ...
Step by step, sinking into the quagmire of consciousness during the flight ...
The relentless recapture escaped a hand ...
No.
I seem to escape being chased by a shadow, a voice ...
From the sensation of being unable to regain control of my life ...
If I ever had, at least once ... Death is the
grin of a consciousness that goes off accusing
... The real outcome of our actions, good or bad ...
And the sudden end to all the same, a mediocre film.
Quanta ironia c’è nella morte, quanto buon senso...
Non dover più nascondersi dietro lo specchio...
Non aver più timore del vento notturno, degli scricchiolii, dei passi...
Non esser costretti ad inseguire il desiderio…
Come il levriere segue la lepre, senza sapere il perché…
Non avere più occhi per contemplare la bellezza, ma soprattutto, non avere più mente per ricordare…
Non dover levare a fatica la schiena dal letto, dopo una notte di bicchieri…
Non uccidere, non amare, non far morire e non far nascere…
E l’idiota non ancora putrefatto – che è in ciascuno di noi – se ne sta lì, a fissarla, stupid ...
not believe his eyes when it reaches the white, sparkling
terminus of the known world ... where everything is silent and perfect ... because it has more life, no blood, no wounds and not from joy ...
baggage without weight, passengers incorporeal crossing gates ...
and cross one another ... Waiting rooms
majestic, appeared by chance and torn by the flash of a second ...
One-way tickets that, unfortunately, can not be reserved ...
Death is an impartial justice, which blocks the second hand
And the eternally fixed at a point on the dial ...
With cold mastery, even the score.
decides to come, climbing or descending the escalator time ...
It does not ask permission ...
No one ... not even God, much less us.
The bounty hunter that reaches you anywhere and at the end
collecting ... son of a murderous hand or any ...
Hidden in the iron, which struck on the head, or shoot insidious infections ...
always comes on time, on our shoulders ...
And always remember the last nail.
quickly everything disappears, including what looked like solid, eternal, permanent ...
collapse of the giant stone and steel, and without crashing again become dust ...
The universe once again becomes a point, infinitely small in end of the dark ...
Who cares if we end up with and the last train stop in the middle of the empty ...
Oh, that old death no science, no fleeting immortality as the man has never really won ...
you to delete the footprints in the sand, you who dispense without emotion ...
The only dignity that we are given, and the last image on the retina
Impressa ... A memorial stone
evanescent, disappearing with us.
And behind the hearse, the remains of grief ...
A nail in the head, a truck that we have a brake in the plot that no personal camera again ... Superb
paraphasia final, fading in the confusion of ...
piety who stands up and starts walking ...
limit, beyond which the cliff eternity bellows as a summer storm ...
Throw the cards on the table, and turn your back to the dealer ...
quit the game at the climax ...
Too easy ... too easy.
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