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contours of an absence

- You gotta do more - I said
at the end when, by now, all I had to be committed was the void that was left.
Not that there had never been the most full.
And if there was, it was because I slipped c'avevo to force stuff.
words.
Hope.
short, a great pair of whores.
It all began with two neuroses that come together and recognize.
Everything always starts like that.

- Engaging in what? -
- Boh, in general -
Him The king, indeed, the emperor of the directive cloaked behind a false life, quite false, almost ridiculous veils echisonoioperdirequesto. If not that what lay behind the veil could always hit the rim five billion points on my skin and there was a fucking laugh. I
. Miss Questions Millenovecentosettantadueeanniavenire. Questions usually intelligent. But not for him, with a smile that rivals the Cheshire Cat, the instigators and then decay, one by one. Questions-candles. Happy non-birthday.

I turned back around a bar of polished desire tucked in the middle of the tongue. I
incastrai between waves of brilliant words stuck in the middle of nowhere. And both

we needed to put on metal of the flesh to have to find out, after all, some consistency.
And when I tried to explain that no, there was a kiss for me no, never kissed before and no wonder, lying, lying shamelessly, not the kisses, but on the questions, I bowl four words as if they were quattrosaltiinpadella skilfully put on the cross "did not happen because they did not want it enough." And I
, open mouth and stomach closed, feet together I fell in the usual tub vocabulary well orchestrated. And when I

with the body in Paris and the heart in the wrong place, wherever he was, very strong desire that I let dangle bait in front of the nose, as smelly, he left to pray and relieve grains of lyricism. And it was widening

vowels and consonants that I breathed a millimeter from the lips sure would not have survived and I would have approached and instead I did not move until. A two-headed monster tentacle and some moved to the bed, until. A castaway in the light of dawn I clung like.

And only a few minutes after the sheets were singing impressions and absences.
And only a few minutes after the fire had become ice, or perhaps less extreme fire.
And only days after more than trying to sink more than stay afloat.
And only a few months later I had to prove to myself that does not mean things have desired.
And only a few years later I can safely say that no, we do not want enough.