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La clessidra

La notte ci avvolge con le sue tenui luci,

allontanando i responsi di abbaglio.

Si appoggia su di Noi tirando i legami come lacci di cuoio.

Il vento,

che non si ferma mai,

peaceful even when it is blowing in a storm,

smiling sensations,

playing shadows on our skin,

skimming hair covering it,

as fresh grass

and the stream runs through the sharp rocks,

leaving signs of trademarks that combine pore one body,

chipped slits of red threads,

joining the shiny black of two souls.

grains of sand fall squeezed light by glass passageway,

raising the time that subverts the omens of past legacies.

They rely on your skin confused lines,

that intersect each other,

as drawings of a kaleidoscope.

Your lips open up to sleep,

the pressure of my hands,

that line your skin with sand.

Small traces burning,

indelible marks,

that seawater

can only supply about your back arched.

pleasure in the pain of vibrating metal rods

impregnated your taste,

drop drops of humor mixed in the melting of bodies,

as the wind fills the smell of Us,

licking every corner of our world,

slipping between the folds,

as silk draperies,

penetrating inside

and filling our side.

mirror moves the waves of darkness,

that reflects our emotions,

continuous images of tiny steps,

that are welded in our souls,

while the sand on the bodies

sweat dries,

scraped from your nails,

melts to regain its time.

There are no words

to circumvent what we feel.

The air smells of Us.

Smell true

of blood ties.

We turn the compass and the wind does not burn the stages,

continues its slow going clear.

and wrap you in our peace,

protecting anyone,

what's mine,

what is yours.

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Specchio......? rifletti.....!

Mirror Cast me

You can paint your face
features, disguise
The masquerade takes place
Davanti ai vostri occhi
Mirror la via, io ti specchio
Imito le cose, che fai

Sono in grado di cambiare il mio aspetto, vestirmi proprio come te
Facilmente scambiare, apparendo come faccio io
Mirror la via, io ti specchio
Imitate le cose, che facciamo

Non sono molte cose che sono libere
Questo viene a me, io lo prendo con garbo
Nulla di ciò che dico o faccio
Modificare una cosa per te, sei tu che spinge attraverso

Ora sono ten feet tall, the world seems oh so small
But I can see everything, right where I'm standing
And if a man should fall and the world is where he'll land,
E when a man does not fly, this world is where I'll be
Mirror the way, I'll mirror.
Imitate the things you do


Nothing I say or do

Non vedermi nel tuo specchio,

le mie parole sono vento,

se ti senti trasportato

fermati un istante a pensare,

non perderai il sentiero se ti appartengono.

not see me in your mirror,

damage not common to all the damned,

do your my words,

those are from the soul,

rise like the wind, close by the rocks,

lick the price of they live,

of their choices.

not dress up wings that you can not carry,

you would fall in your short flight,

air of reality.

Do not be carried by the charm of my Black

look at it from a distance,

stain these pages because what is true.

I do not have masks

and I have a very hard step to take,

surrounded by laughter and pain

and the colors of my palette dripping blood

and dips the brush to draw signs

on canvases that claim.

not see me in your mirror,

because my mirror is blind

and runs the emotions that surround the dark

fascinated from the mind,

enchanted by the soul.

Why a blind mirror is a pure mirror.

We do not read that which is full of sense of ownership:

" We And that is something that anyone can understand.

No one can read a book that has a single copy and is in the hands of two madmen. "

not see me in your mirror,

end up the figure of a demon,

his peaceful living hell,

you will end up in his room,

I enter and go out whenever I want,

you think you could be?

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The nib in the ink sinks.

ink pulsing,

flowing through channels that tend skin.

Touch penetrating deeper into the page edges.

Stride its passage.

Sparks of light upward.

writes on the threads that bind,

as rapacious hands shaking,

pressing fingers on his wrist,

sinking into the sides.

Chills ripple the skin,

reflected in small drops of sweat.

And we indulge

dance to that animal,

where our desires

limits on non-moving steps.

Each piece of meat is to be explored.

The eyes are fixed in the challenge of the beyond,

giving pleasure to the altar .

There is no prevalence of possessing,

muscles,

in stealthily,

sharp

fairground,

on our bodies,

both the pursuit of pleasure of the other.

We find our desires

along the woven fabric,

that is intertwined in a circle,

reflected in drops that have not requests,

that our smell in the air transmits

lick the flavor and excitement

pleasures of unexpressed

along the line that divides pain

and pleasure fills,

find yourself in the wonder of desire

the desire.

The challenge vibrates on your wrist

long my arms that hold them still,

blindfolded I could to make you mad,

let go

sink to let the pen

on black pages to plow the red.

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Leggi che LE passa!!!

as many other bloggers have talked about books ... because I usually read many books of my style yellow / horror and yesterday a book about serial killers tried to kill me from the shelf (I was pulling me in the head) ... I could not do so well I Mò?? I wanted to talk but a book that I fell in love! because you Godzillina despite its almost 7 months off mode ciciarampa soon as I start to read it * IN REALITY 'IS A PROFESSIONAL EH? .. ALSO DO THE VOICES! * want to remember because the investment of one of these "so cute" Marsa Alam in the sea is still vivid .. I love this book ..... I think it still amazing that we can fall in love with a book at the most .. if it is a children's book ... the truth is that I have always loved this kind of reading ... sometimes I stop to watch windows of bookstores and fixed them for minutes .... so it takes the view that talent to write books for adults ... but even more so for those writing and illustrating for children and ... with my little thought ... I present to you the pages that we love this week ....

The mainland is just a memory ..

the immense sky touches the water ....

swims by moving its long fins as if they were wings ... fly under water ...

then tip his nose as small

pinholes to the surface

silver sea, to take

a quick breath of fresh air ....

and in the blink of an eye ... is gone .....

gone .... plunging into the secret life .....

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L'emozione corre su piccoli fili

quasi invisibili,

schiudendo le labbra alla vista di una goccia.

Stilla sulla pelle il suo tonfo vibrando la fantasia,

che penetra nel profondo avvolgendo matasse di stupore

attorno all'anima.

Il calore si diffonde sulla pelle

and fills the body like an hourglass

small grains of reflected color

fall light.

And all this in the world that has no vision,

where the mind produces images of Us,

rigando the contours of lightning in the dark.

Le dita premono su labbra,

per intingersi di quei sapori,

che trasformano l'assenza nella presenza di Noi

e l'odore prende forma come in nubi galleggianti nel cielo,

tinto di rosso dall'attesa,

dalla mente che si apre come petali ,

dischiudendo their pleasure wet.

And everything reminds us of this,

in a past that is lost in time ,

teacher as we are,

in a future that does not matter,

imploding the limits flaky

because each step in this

is a growth

and there are no if,

there are but

possession that envelops us in its embrace,

is forever present.

And you leave everything outside the circle,

eyes while smiling to challenge

beating on the counter his own claim.

And the meter of time is grinding,

displaced by the will to live,

to live it.

You dance in a balance that needs no poles,

feet sunk in pine needles on a hill,

mentre l'onda frigge leggera sulla battigia,

il fuoco lancia le sue sue lingue nell'aria,

leccando i nostri corpi,

lungo le pieghe tremanti il dolore,

sereno piacere.

Il vento accarezza il sangue

che corre sulla nostra pelle,

lasciando piccole gocce nella its wake.

Everything blends between legs grasped,

long cuts which give marks ,

flavors,

odors,

emotions

mix in the skin,

while our eyes were chained

thin wires,

not tear.

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Adrift.

They told me that I can not put an 'enough' to every wave that falls down.

They told me that I can not put a 'I'm sick' or 'tired'

when I feel I can do not.

Then we go on like this.

Because things change,

daily

you back up.

to fall better,

hopelessly

once yet.

"Every day

a new life"

said some sage.

We go to comes ,

and every day we contradict

existence.

the comes ,

and if I stop worrying

is because disappear.

If you do not stop,

is why do not the peace .

I wish it were easier

stop.

I want to make it so,

if nobody gives me 'a good reason

not to.

I can not be tired (?) ..

The crisis does not hold water.






not happy. But a good time. Some say that some people make me a bad effect. Some people say that others are good for me and give me a good mood. I still do not listen to common sense, but for how long?
Meanwhile, breathing the scent of some smiles.
beautiful smile.

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You find yourself dancing on leaves from vibrating strings,

while the bow slips on emotions,

tracing with a finger the jagged edges.

music wafting smell of the air.

not surprised to understand,

if you are playing

or you are listening,

or simply are own hands

that move the bow up spider webs in a circle.

Avulsion of the past are lost along the path to the forest,

in footprints on the beach is covered by water.

They melt in the embrace of arms,

that stretch to the sky,

smiling with tongues of fire,

in continuous wave dip in the sea,

shadows of gulls can alert you to a shipwreck.

But the eyes meet looking for We,

curious slip through shards of glass cutting

and children as we set off from those branches,

fire because we accept the waves of the sea,

while the wind carries the sound of foam that hits the rock,

the sound of a waterfall that is peace in the river bed

There is mirrored on the water which shows the bottom of the rock,

a path lost among the trees,

serene awareness,

lacks the desire to learn,

if it leads to the mouth or door to the source,

the river flows and goes.

We follow the current embraced on a leaf.

The water is fresh,

emotions flicker as Trout

and then fall to sink into us,

scratch the skin and nails

feet as water fleas,

hatch red petals and lily of blacks

the croaking of frogs

and skin spot of blood dripping.

And then I mirror on his knees in the river

to find your face.

Elsewhere

Amo il tempo e nel mezzo
la tranquillità dentro me
nello spazio dove posso respirare
Io credo che ci sia una distanza
in cui ho vagato
per sfiorare gli anni in cui
mi sforzavo di raggiungere qualcosa
resistevo, mi controllavo

Io credo
che ci sia un Paradiso per nessun'altro che per me
e lo difenderò purchè io possa essere
lasciata qui a soffermarmi nel silenzio
se scelgo di farlo
cercherai di capire?

lo so, l'amore è un periodo fuggevole
che scorre come se fosse liquido
Sono ubriaca del mio desiderio...
ma adoro il modo in cui mi sorridi
adoro il modo in cui le tue mani mi raggiungono
e mi tengono stretta...
Io credo...

Io credo
che ci sia un Paradiso per nessun'altro che per me
e lo difenderò purchè io possa essere
lasciata qui a soffermarmi nel silenzio
se scelgo di farlo
cercherai di capire?

la bambina tranquilla aspetta il giorno
in cui potrà liberarsi
della forma che le sta appiccicata come la disperazione
Mamma, non vedi che
ho vissuto la mia vita come pensavo fosse giusto
può non essere giusto per te, ma è giusto per me...
Io credo...

Io credo
che ci sia un Paradiso per nessun'altro che per me
e lo difenderò purchè I may be
left here to dwell in silence if I choose to do so

tried to understand?

I wish I could linger here in silence if I choose to do so

understand?
tried to understand?

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diario di una gym addicted!!

Until two years ago, my idea of \u200b\u200bmoving up to match this

REALLY EH?

Then two years ago .. .. lighting ... I said "Okay .. I feel SO I STOP AT THE MOST WHEN I WANT!" .. and so I joined the gym! I must tell you that my relationship with paelstra has always been a bit 'a love / odio..amore because when I'm in the gym I can detox from the stress of the day (that is work / home / family), you see people of all sorts (there's also one that I think is in my pajamas!) The relationship of hatred instead relies heavily on the fact that when I go to the gym. . ... I get something like this.

J ANE OF BASES POVERI !...mi manca solamente il body fuxia con scaldamuscoli annessi (NO…. NON SONO ANCORA ARRIVATA A QUESTI LIVELLI NON PREOCCUPATEVI!)…e il trucco stile JEM E LE HOLOGRAM (c'è chi viene truccata perfino così!) e sono apposto.... Dr.Male una volta mi ha chiesto addirittura se avevo l’amante in palestra!!e perché soffro di uno strano masochismo tipicamente femminile per cui appena comincio a vedere i risultati vorrei dare sempre di più!!

… e poi  perché in verità..in fondo in fondo..la mia vera natura…è ancora questa!!!

Io amooo..anzi…dovrei dire AMEREI..visto che faccio parte di quella folta schiera di esseri umani studiati dagli scienziati  sotto il nominativo di  “HOMUS DIETUSPERENNUS” mangiare schifezze e sdravaccarmi sul divano!Ma purtroppo la natura non mi ha dotato di metabolismo!!(dev'esserci qualcuno che s’è preso pure la mia porzione!) quindi…almeno 3 volte a settimana io vado dal mio “gym pusher” sperando prima o poi di incontrare un istruttore come lui!!!!

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The spider is harmless to fabric weaving to capture,

lays out a path safe to walk on to reach his prey.

silk threads cut the air,

stretch emotions intertwined

slowly advancing,

treading on steps desires,

covering blind.

There are no questions.

falling like drops on our skin,

that absorbs

transports,

while the meat is vibrating like the strings,

marked by the blade that cuts through.

And we let it go on this canvas,

unwary to be caught,

both predators

and prey.

fingers slide by pressing on the neck,

nails raise the crust,

we have covered,

thighs are pressing the flesh in this dance.

unravel threads that fall along the back arched,

interweaving of words formed from the breath that is life,

that lead us forward,

caressing peace

while the wind has its fingers in your hips,

while spraying fire pressed my chest.

I bite my lips,

you hit yours.

we mix flavors,

smelling the smells,

while long rows of red ants

burn our skin,

flashes of black.

And your hands hold canvases of pleasure and pain,

red and black ,

groaning silence shock wave on the rocks of time,

is mirrored on the water transparency

coming down the mountain,

the image of us,

vibrating pleasure pierced by steel,

rain of emotions,

progress with amazement.

drops of essence to us.

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from yellow to blue

a year ago.

Io me lo ricordo bene,

benissimo .

Dal primo sorriso, alla prima risata, all'ultima.

Cantammo i Placebo a squarcia gola,

di notte,

quando avremmo potuto dormire,

dopo una cena di complicità.

Birre, su birre, su birre

su birre .

E Palladio, la sua villa notturna,

senza allarmi, probabilmente,

perchè feci la mia prima azione illegale,

entrando a vedere le immense colonne

con i miei occhi,

per sentirmi una sola, infinitesima, parte del mondo .

L'amore. L'amore. L'amore.

La macchina.

Un anno fa, 

ad oggi,

tutto è così diverso.

Ma non ho rimpianti.

Ad oggi, sto bene.

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colazione da tiffany.......doccia da Bulgari

Un occhio incaccolato si ... opens with difficulty the other ... here's how I began my day ... .. I turn Urletti and giggles in the room .... mmmm Dr.Male is there with the puppy ciciarampa .... I look forward to .. 9 : 45 .. uhhh ... I just got that cute Dr.Male to let me sleep ... you might start the day with a nice shower and coffee! (incazzatura not know that was there around the corner!) ....

"DR.MALEEEEEEE !!!!"

- hello love !!!-- DADAPAPA PRRRRRR * * (hello mamy!)

" I love .. I nearly I take a shower! After we make a coffee? "

- ok! -

I go to the bathroom with the eye still incaccolato .. .. I open the shower .... I take off ... look inside. . lacks the shower gel (which is azz?)

"DR.MALEEEE"

the room * * - Siiiii?? -

"It 's finished the bubble bath!"

- I KNOW! USA OTHER! - * other ???????*

"Where else?"

- EH, TO BULGARIAN! ! -

* ME TO STAY PURE PIGLIO your ass?? My name is not mica MAMMADISASTRO ONASSIS !!... maximum snazzy in this house was the badidas! *

Moment Reflection .. Bulgari Bulgari ... .... at some point realize ... .. the feeling was more or less the baby with the ghosts of the sixth sense ... tickle behind his head and arm hairs that stands on end ... I realized .... I look around me ... mansola over the sink ... and there it is ... the packaging of the body cream given to me by a dear friend of mine ... Bulgari super expensive body cream that I use the eyedropper and open ... ... .. almost devoid of content .... Dr.Male had meanwhile passed into the bedroom and I had more or less this point ... ..

"SAY ' TUUU you used MIAAAA BULGARI BODY CREAM AS BATH FOAM ??????????? "

- AH, IT WAS NOT A BATH FOAM? - * Ah, but then I really un'onassis! SPEAK GREEK !!!!*

" NO! "And he laughed

- AH-AH! ... I THINK YESTERDAY I've got ALSO WASHED THE SEAT TO SOPHIE! "-

* AH-AH .. THINK .. THIS TIME I WANT TO MOUNT THE HEAD ON THE CONTRARY *

" WAS A BODY CREAM! UPON WRITTEN ! buys LA ME NOW! "

- EHHHH BY ... BUT - * you by .. in fact you'd be fine with your shins on the other hand ... ... *

Moral??'m still counting to avoid killing after disassembled and reassembled on the other hand .... some make Breakfast at Tiffany's .... We do Onassis THE SHOWER .....

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Sail grass fog.

spectra children live

bored from time

playing aimlessly

the shadows tasteless

of those smiles in the air press

dictated by their own selfishness.

Wind dissolves.

Life spectra dead

and quell'assordante silence

the sound cynical,

rivivon the screams,

laughter,

the tears.

ball rolling bushes,

hiding jump ropes.

Everything in simple surprise.

and spectra of trees

beam are the choices,

swinging those who have decided

to be dead alive,

stretching his shadow

about who decided

to die not to live.

The look behind the eyes

of those living dead,

cruel smile

while the eyes are aimed toward the horizon.

unmanageable who can be everything and anything,

who no limits

and sweeps his mind.

The past is baggage,

that you can not leave

in suitcases to explode at some station.

not stop.

The wind continues to blow,

to shake off his sins shall not,

to whistle up questions that have no answers.

can be defined instinct,

but not explain.

How to give up what they do not deny?

Then I put it on the counter and draw a card.

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I met you on a hot day in the center ... .. at some point while walking I felt your eyes on me ... I turned and you were there with your sweet .. intense eyes, fixed on me .. I did not care that you were "different foreign .." ... I made you come into my life ... after a while ', came the "you" ... you know Sophie recently but you're already his hero ... now you have become his confidant .. that you reserve the best cuddles. ... sometimes I'm jealous of your relationship to your Sunday in bed or the way she caresses your ears before going to sleep (including mother are made to be crushed style wrestler) ... but I can not help but say ... ...

THANKS CYRIL!

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A piece of truth



are three days that I open and close this blog. Three days I write drafts, and not post anything, because I know the eyes that read, and I know those who do not read, but that they should read. I go on trying, hoping to knock out two lines of decency, and there never. This is the latest attempt, so if you're reading, yes, I do not ever turn to the alleged qusto blog readers, today is the first time I do it seriously, it is clear that the attempt will have been right.

is the truth, people reading. I'm tired . A classic, I know. Tired of trying to do my best to get the things so that fewer people can get hurt , and find that the end is useless. Which then, now that I think, for some reason in the only two concrete examples that come to mind when, in addition to myself - that does not go out never free, I'm sorry, is the victim, but to me it looks just like - what we call in the concrete is Gaia. Yes Yes, now I'm in a name. I hate the names. They make everything so terribly LITTLE POETIC, in these cases. But this situation .. come on, on, what's the matter of poetic? I tried to write in verse, I tried not to write, now I feel even so, in more colloquial prose that I can, ever will suddenly discover that all is well.
No, not good anything.
I'm wearing a lot more responsibility than I would have liked to have, willy-nilly. Including the responsibility on myself, because I do not want to fall into depression. I know how it works in my world. Or run away from everything , not having anything, which is the best way to be able to complain but have no problems, everything I or is removed, which is the most convenient way to remain passive in the face of life, and still do the said purpose. And since when I do not bow to the circle of the sloth? ever.
So here, we walk a tightrope, and fall from one of the two parties as if there was one that hurts less. There. The floor is the same. It seeks only to fall with his face toward the light.
Yes, I know what I'm talking about. And no one else, probably, although there are those who can interpret my words well. It is a letter to anyone, this one. It 's a letter to myself, to remind me what conditions you know that someone can see what I write. And yet it passed me the courage to turn this blog to others' eyes. Why?

I would flee. Orvieto, I miss . Those days alone to decide that I did not want to go out, or rather I really want to stay in a park hours, or hours to drink a cappuccino in front of the cathedral, without the time to anyone, except my . I lack the courage? Where did it go? I'm afraid that will not work? Did it work?
I'm fine with my sister at home. Sister, Jade, my neighbor, who lives with me and maybe it's a blessing that keeps me up, and does not need words. It 'as not necessarily having to be alone with a screen. It 's like if we were a family, me and her.
And then there are a lot of dreams that do not concern it, a lot of frustration that they kill me, and I continue to endure, because the man is masochistic in nature, because man has afraid, because I I'm afraid, or maybe good, or maybe I'm terrified of being back . being left behind.
's why I'm the first to do so.
what I wrote?

Shut . Get out. Press a button and everything is finished. But it does not work that way. Do not you stop simply to have emotions and feelings when you decide to do so. Oh, but it happens. Happen. If I had to wait at least not in this agony, but simply from day to day the world said "there you know" or "it's over." Wounded and dead, he recovered to live after them. But who is dying, every day is the greatest tragedy.

I can not complain if no one is happy with my (alleged) happy. The worst thing is that you can not deny when you see this behavior in what would we. I can not complain if, instead of feeling good now that I most of all, I spend my days to fret, attack and be attacked, as if there's a particular taste in destroy everything as soon as possible.
We are destroying everything. Maybe just me. Maybe what I want is that it is easier to hate, hate us, hate to leave. It 's so that it is going. The first step is done, the first day has come ..

It 's very easy to hate those who ama, piuttosto che chi ci è indifferente..
Il mio Y. non mi può salvare. Sto annegando. Affogo. Non posso sopportarlo.

Ho scritto questo per voi? Coda di paglia, nel chiederlo di continuo e negarlo? Forse.

Strappatemi qualche altro pezzo.
Così finalmente resterò senza cuore.