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Memories Night

The night, dark region,
dominates us and surprises with its flavors,
silent while we venture into the woods.

smelly huts ahead
pending bad
civilization that will bring us back his false taste.

She and I hung out on a bed of pearls
play with our bodies and our imaginations,
afraid to live, I snatched her pussy like a hand of friendship.

The doors are all open, pending the alien

that bring us back good news.

The rain falls gently on their gender,
wetting what is left of real
falsity of a pure soul. Plumose

the night, screaming
Children shake your dreams
light that falls from your hair. With big eyes


sink your eyes in my soul, trying
what is true in me.

By my silence,
'll tell you the story of a man
a fake puppet of a furnished house.

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Femme fatale

closing his eyes for a moment, savoring

for a moment those notes, you

imprinted in my mind.

Mandala, angel artificial

sentences with unnecessary

have condemned my love.

Terrified front of a false self,

will ride raising frightful cries,

to awaken what symmetry is in me.

draw faces with charcoal,

on a black canvas, leaving the imagination

the shape of the lines.

In symbiosis

be fishing in that lake artificial

created by my tears.

Playing with colors, paint

love of color ever created, that will shine like fire

imprinted on your skin.

And once again, with false truth

I'll tell you that I love

femme fatale.

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I'm blind

the sacredness of the vision,
I became blind, I can not change

are blind.

Love dark
you who reside in the depths of my soul,
where devils have feasted with my thoughts,
where everything exists and nothing more.

Peering through words, I seek you with parsimony
Justice
claiming what was taken from me,
claim what is owed to me.

In the darkness of darkness I've seen,
shone with intense brightness,
around you all the stars went out, and I became
blind.

Love Black
wicked soul,
you inflict the worst evils
gifts and dreams better.

Waiting for the view, you try your hands


hoping to touch what my mind can only imagine.

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thoughts

The murderess

clutching his weapon, the offender

invents a new excuse.

riguastato The gods have the weather, sunshine

tearing our poor clouds

while invisible drops of blood

us wet and warm the face.

A woman naked on a cold table

is robbed of his empire,

tears of blood oozing from the heart of the poor devil.

Day after day

sporadic memories of a life never lived,

never looked at a time, making us feel welcome there

stupid.

Mrs. continues his work

reaper of souls,

a child screaming in the world

hoping to change something.

The carousel continues unabated

and stubborn in her lap, and every moment

us back to the starting point.