Come se non corressi da cent’anni.
Come se ci fosse solo sabbia sotto le unghie, sabbia attorno alle palpebre. Come se non sentissi più la sete tanta l’abitudine di affondare in mare.
Come non ci fosse altro rumore che il ronzio, altro gusto che il neutro. Come se non vedessi più luce e colori. Come vivere di apatia.
Prendi un barlume, spalmalo sul petto.
Balla e brucia sotto il sole.
Tendi le mani, allontana le prese.
Solo ora i denti arrivano al midollo.
A pink hole, a worm
it tells you where to kiss
it points you the gallantry
When was the last time you got lost?
Where were you?
It is the hole on my hand
that makes the harvest slides
and I think about the future,
I won’t face it today
today there is only the citrus on the lips
there is only a house, a cloud
The box open
there come out
it bothers you when it lays on your nose
Don’t you realize that you are an insect as well?
That it is a human being?
Teach me again how to conduct my life
give me more scars on my arms
give me psychiatric drugs and alcool and coffee
the afternoon doesn’t happen
Will you come tomorrow?
If I’m asking you
it’s because my ego has to be feeded
What did you expect?
We are social animals
It is about being social animals.
Rattled, delightfully unstable over some water ground, cold in the cheeks and soggy in the pants.
I ride over the cabblestones, over the mortal tram lines, over the hills which used to scare me and the shops who don’t call at me.
There is you, there is only you everywhere…
I am scared to fall.
‘Shake it off’, a voice urges inside me.
‘What if you don’t?
What if you don’t fall?
Are you more scared of that?’