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wake up.

[...]

  

you like snow, but only if it's warm.

you like rain, but only if it's dry.

there's no sentimental value to the rose that fell on your floor.

there's no fundamental excuse for the granted I'm taken for.

 

you like pain, but only if it doesn't hurt too much.

you sit and you wait to receive.

there's an obvious attraction

to the path of least resistance in your life.

there's an obvious aversion, no amount of my insistence

could make you try tonight.

 

there's no love, no money, no thrill anymore.

there's an apprehensive, naked, little, trembling boy

with his head in his hands.

there's an underestimated and impatient, little girl

raising her her hand.

  

*

l'ultimo sconsolato bang della mia lattina di desolazione nel vuoto della valle, che ascolto con soddisfazione, nudo. lontano, lontano alle porte del mondo c'era il vortice di vento che ammoniva come tutti noi saremo spazzati via come trucioli e piangeremo. uomini dagli occhi stanchi ora lo capiscono, e attendono di deturparsi e putrefarsi, nonostante questo essi conservano egualmente nel cuore il potere d'amare. non so più cosa significhi quella parola.

l'unica cosa che voglio è un cono gelato.

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Taken on January 1, 2008