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Reciting

The clock
slow scan time of memories

bring to mind images of days past. The sun shines strong



coloring the sky and illuminating the poor libertine,
invokes the fears of his thoughts.

Strong words,
sweet gestures, the actor

plays his last scene of his latest script.

Allegri we linger at the going down of the light, while the moon
messenger of love,

resumed his place in the starry night.

couples nude, stolen love,
thoughts intertwine and twist
positions and shapes unreal
heroic deeds of another time.

The Poor Poet,
spread asphalt cold, trudging
seeking
thirst for a love never born.

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Reminiscent of the words

Inspiration of a mind insane, in a spirit echoing verses

make subject naked man, free spirit.

use what remains for us to create an idyll
infamy freedom
under subdued by an innate malice.

as fire, wind, love, burn
blown die
shining a bright light.

The road burns in early morning sun while the dreamers

open their eyes to search for a new world.

The new world, like a fairy tale

lives and grows in our dreams. Give us back the word



fragments of letters that make us feel superior.

Soul oblivion of the things that shine,
small hearth
innocent sweet reminiscence of a love lost. We are looking for something real


try something immoral
seek freedom inherent in our fears.

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The hourglass time

Reality confused
the future is reflected in the glass eyes of the alien
.

sacred words echo in the rain that falls
slow wetting what is immoral
keep inside your soul.

Sensi overshadowed by sex,
a stranger seeks love, but will only
the falsity of a foul unhealthy.

Looking for something
we go beyond human virtue
where something seems like a mere mirage.


In search of a word that makes us feel like children
nell'infantile we lose consciousness.

Demon website and in our hearts,
where feasting with our emotions
and pushes us towards a possible self-destruction.

Is there anything wrong in his eyes,
where my image so many times
immersed herself with infinite gentleness.

Looking for a false truth, I loved

until the cancellation of all emotions.

Dolce murderer of my senses,
much suffering in your false words,
much pain in your false love.

Life is nothing but a succession of images
flowing slowly along the grains of sand, a whole life
sealed in glass ampoules.

Rebel
resurrect ourselves and grind
glass that keeps us.

Nutriamoci of love & suffering
make way for a happy dream,
slowly killing the unhealthy thoughts.

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Raiz