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Wednesday
Morning, 6:30 a.m..... what I've done.. oh, WHY have I done it?...... I hid my dirty soul behind a dead corner, my eyes were hard-weeping and my leg heavy-bleeding, warm blood, for a freezing heart, I could hear the echo of a distant bell riding its sound over and over my head, while the sand along the pavement got red-coloured and my regrets steadily were growing, me, only me in the deserted, shocked-to-death village, me... awaiting my turn to come, before I could end roaming along a nameless road, beggin' and bleeding, slowly dying... I was to kiss death and asking for water, I tried to borrow a lonely child's impossibly genuine smile... it was nothing more than a foolish lapse of reason, for a fool sent to the Combo of the Disappeared.......... I robbed a bank, yesterday, and I robbed my very life, today; I started sweeping like a menacing snake through the dusty track, while my irregular breath was counterpointing, with deadly sound, a damn fast heartbeat.... My wounds were eating the few glimpses of faith left, and swallowing my corrupted but still flaming soul. I felt a raging crowd whispering louder and louder, getting closer to me, and crushing my broken shoulders, a long stream of blood was getting out of the Big Red-Bottomed Saloon....... After a while, I "crashed" into a nice, all-white-skirted lady. She was blind although her eyes looked inspired and deafeningly lightful, the kind of light I had lost many years ago. She had fire and passion, but did not ask for compassion, an slightly enigmatic expression for a second "stabbed" my heart; I felt roaring pain mixed with understated joy, love might be her never-ending void; she kept acting just like an old, smoothly insane diva.... "Is she a revolving spyral or a thundering hurricane very next-to-come and kill me...?"... A couple of minutes and I found myself in a cobwebbed cage full of misery and decadence, then... then a tight, warm embrace. She kissed with involving, dramatic scenical passion my wounded lips... She started saying..... "I can hear your fast-growing heartbeat and get the smell of your blood falling off your seriously injured leg... what happened to you?... I guess you are bound to vanish, what is not to vanish will be your impossible crime... Please, don't stare at my blindness or don't watch my tears descending on your blessed lips.... my spirit is about to get raped and murdered by the Goddess Indifference... she already killed me, a long time ago... now I've forgotten, even if I will be disappearing through the ashes of shot-dead prisoners and fugitive outlaws....." All of a sudden, I heard shot-guns over shot-guns beating the temporary, peaceful silence, the air seemed to be broken and the Great Sentence decided it was time to break free... I had the weird, sharpened feeling of being part of an old-aged western-movie, occasionally revisited and turned into a frightful, unpredictable "noir-like-drama" by a mad director ....... I was still standing on my feet watching the blood coming out.......... My mind began to implode into fever and distorted visions....... I was moving ...and not moving... it was me.... but not me........ I desperately shook my very last thoughts of rebellion and free-spirited pretensions........ I could only dream of... I had heavy loads of hate chasing me, my sense of redemption was keeping me alive and conscious..... No pity for the getaway, one more chance to a new, blistering, truculent massacre..... ....ALL DEAD... ALL DEAD... while the Central High Street was still bleeding and pouring its innocent souls, mixed with the outlaw's harsh-smelling body........wifes and mothers were crying over their husbands and sons' obscured heads. Tears and blood, once more. And for the next day to come, there we'll have new sentences to declare, but no more grief and sorrow to pour on our dear innocence gone lost, that kind of innocence maybe hidden beneath the child's impossibly genuine smile. 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. |