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I remember
I looked outside my window, I was hearing, touching warm rain
falling... I saw a Cadillac, down into the grave, I was staring
at the man stabbed in the face. The street was burning Devil's
fire and the sky seemed to tremble while suffocated, compressed,
apparently dead air was about to implode into previously un-felt
raging temperatures, some old people are dying, some other will
soon follow ... I'm stuck in the middle of the street, street that's melting into black smoke, the still fresh asphalt exhales such a nasty, neutral smell... I can't wait, I seem to feel the cars and motorbikes steel penetrating my pneumonia, it's like drinking poison and raping my menthal conditions... Then, I crashed into a borderlining, drunk guy called "Mad Uncle Albert", his face devastated by dissolution and his consciousness deprived of any feeling and sensation, "Mad Uncle Albert you're dead..." - that was the ordinary statement by his fellow friends... they looked forward to watching him falling into the ground and never waking up. The rule there was insanity, any stimulation or motivation was seen as mere utopia... maybe they didn't even know the meaning of this word........... They used to die as old rockers driven-crazy by their ill-fated destiny, atrocious deads after atrociously never-ending nights drowned in booze and fatal wishes. On the border again, to see life from the obscure angle, "it's nothing more than a different point of view", people from the haunted village used to say to foreigners ---------------------------------------------------------- They drank disillusions and they sucked pain and disregard, non-sense is the common-sense, and depravity is just the ordinary. "Wicked minds are the entertainment, here, regular ones are forbidden... this is OUR law... take it or leave it..." Wherever you see asylums and insane people, here you will find peace and comfort, and you'll die silently wrapped around deafening silence". ...and then, suddenly, I saw myself running toward the exit in order to capture the last breath of light, darkness was suffocating me, like being possessed by a poisoned snake ready to bite, no time left, "....I might be taken as a prisoner and never get out of here..........." - I constantly repeated to myself. Even the Sun seemed to have fallen in disgrace while the Moon was left masterminding the sky............ Shortly afterwards I heard from a passer-by that Mad Uncle Albert was dying of misunderstanding, while I was vanishing into the red-blooded sands of the village, corrupted and progressively consumed by my anxiety.... I soon began to sweaten, cold, cold sweat that furrowed my face, I was shaken with tears and anger, sadness and acid paranoia... I couldn't get the meaning of the moment... "Is that surrender... Is that the Lady of the Haunted Village who's waiting to kiss my bleeding lips?...."... ---------------------------------------------------------- I was being swallowed by this nightmare, waiting for the next glimpse of life to take me back to surface and nevermore let my spirit torn and alone.......... expecting to wake up and see the light of the day once more, before falling asleep again into the realm of unknown........... I might get murdered, the next time.... Questo testo è depositato presso www.neteditor.it e quindi coperto da diritti d'autore. Esso non potrà essere riprodotto totalmente o parzialmente senza il consenso dell'autore stesso, il quale, peraltro, ha autorizzato la pubblicazione su NuovoGPR, in data indicata in testa ed a mezzo e-mail. |