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Undoing Time is complete!

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Nights like tonight are not made.

They are born while I plow through with the Chevrolet Darling.

It’s already a few weeks I’m having this sort of melancholy.

Crawling back from a far away place inside the folds of my brain.

Reading novels written for illiterates no doubt.

Stream of thought greys, ocras and dark greens.

Films for depraved made in lead, mud, chalk and diamonds.

Music resembling the shout of a beast slaughtered, warhowler heartbreaker.

I have been forged in darkness, and never feared it.

When you fear, you push away.

You don’t actually see what you fear.

Truth is: bathing in the sun for too long can bruise you.

Sight and sound black as your eyes.

Dead this night.

For I can’t bear them alive.

Music. Sound. Machine running the miles.

I don’t remember anymore the nightbirds, the endless typing, the epic journeys made with fog fanning out.

I know who I am.

I don’t know who I was, who you thought about in the dead of the night when all was said and done.

I feel just the endless road built and destroyed where my children are resting.

For I had many children, wouldn’t you know.

They were the most fair: dark eyes, dark hair, white teeth gleaming in warning for mother sleeps soundly and needs not to be disturbed.

Still my car is running in the dead of the night.

Past gas services, past lives and deaths, past people and creatures made from a faulty deity who forgets and never really forgives me for my sins.

And thus the guitar sounds like the end of a world born in the dark.

And the clear tenor screeches notes of ireFire.

Been dazed and confused for so long it’s not true…[…]
Don’t know where you’re goin’
Only know just where you’ve been

I always collected satin ribbons.

I don’t know why I do it but now I find a rainbow made of every hue and I understand.

Some ribbons I have tied after I met you.

They are the most beautiful of all.

Still the colours of life.

Still in a dream.

Still there to remind me.

Like unsaid words into seasons and years.

Single days in bliss.

Those I will remember today. 🌻🌼🍁🌾🌄

Il primo sabato del mese di Settembre.
San Grato e la fine dell’estate.

Il frastuono delle voci sul soffitto alto dell’oratorio.

La vita che gira perpetua ancora…

Presto tutto questo rimarrà solo dentro la mia testa…nel silenzio.

Mentre pellicole strane, a tratti cliniche a tratti ironiche mi passano davanti…fra nuvole di fumo e quartieri cinesi.

Saigon e Lussello.

Antipodi e vicini di casa.

Come with me underwater.

And die to despise me no more.

4674

Sono due settimane che lavoro ininterrottamente.

Non mi stupisce dopo sei mesi che ci do dentro per riuscire a fare soldi e finalmente lo smaronamento sta dando i suoi frutti perché la gente è tornata a casa dalle ferie.

Ferie che io non ho fatto, se non contiamo sette giorni divisi in due riprese.

Totale a tre zeri in due settimane di Ka-ching!

Dovrei essere euforica.

Invece no.

Sono stanca e poco felice.

Sta a vedere che cambio lavoro…

CHECK HER OUT!!!

Papercut

Words inside my veins.

Sliding in crimson, no more forcing their way out.

Still I dream while blood clots on the paper.

A new story dries up on the easel of the lost.

I salute you.

World dead before being born.

Secondo ascolto, mentre lavoro e cerco di non addormentarmi.. @@

Ok, il nuovo disco è sì e no passabile ma non una punta di diamante…si può ascoltare così ma non mi prende come Ultraviolence…quello mi è entrato nel cuore cavolo!

Forse è meglio se metto su gli AC/DC o qui finisce che non combino niente oggi…

And I would like too.

But no, I won’t stop thank you.

Thing is I can.

I wouldn’t be if I could.

I’m so fucking tired today…

Te lo meriti.

Ed anche no.

Because I know you loved the nothing so many years ago.

A girl with no true direction in her life but a will made of rusty iron.

Now blueish steel, forged in the darkness of the years gone by behind.

Now more and beyond.

Never bend or break again

Watch with your eyes.

From a dark, dank place here comes Evil.

Long gone eyes made of ice and venom never closing, harsh words never retracted.

A pen scratching words written for herself only.

Longing for nothing.

Longing Evil had and your anger wasn’t misguided.

Still, given everything, Evil deserved…?

Did she truly?

Did she?

I’m not asking you now.

I’m asking this to the ago you.

I’m not hungry for answers or accusations, I’m afraid.

Sorry for what happened though.

4650

You no more than road under my wings

Yet more than every minute spent

Battling over dreams never dreamed

Men never loved

Thoughts and actions never put to fruition

Theater words made for tragedies and stories of woe

Far away in the decades

I spent learning

we are not mirrors

but black holes made to devour

and waiting to implode

You still more than every length I walked.

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