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Two

were two

and I was left alone

lost in a glass too

shipwrecked in powder room

desperately seeking something

that I miss so much

I love you baby

it was nice to make love to you

as they are beautiful illusions

and sad thoughts

and songs of the seventies

and that desire to move away

and the desire to remain

and so noble horizon

of the Ionian sea that goes away

to Africa

so is each holy day

I love you baby

it was nice to make love to you

it was nice to have you

and think could possibly be forever

the endless solitude of feeling lonely

sometimes plays tricks

one day you think everything is fine

and the next day you would like to kill you

were two

and I was left alone

lost in a glass too

shipwrecked in powder room

desperately seeking something

that I miss so much

I love you baby

it was nice to make love to you

it was nice to have you

and think could possibly be forever

forever what?

look around and tell me

if there is something that can

never endure forever

everything is destined to disappear

and this is a company deciduous

whatever one may say Marx or Weber

Jesus Joseph and Mary

have mercy on 'My soul

not you live every day

you can not die forever.

Yeah ... it was nice to make love to you.

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a month will be Christmas. In the cities have already taken the decorations, the gifts started anxiety, and complaints because there is money. And the hypocritical smile in advertising is already making the rounds all over Italy. Among a month will be Christmas as usual and I'm growing into a panic, for what, since I can remember, will be remembered as the worst day of the year. Because let's face it: Christmas is not a party for people like me who still think I represent most of the Italian population: a family devastated and disastrous, two parents who hate each other, no relatives with whom I have nothing to do alone, without money, without faith, without hope. And I know that I will arrive soon, the only question that will get me after the greeting ritual is: "So, how many exams you miss them?". And maybe also reason, why should I finish this university. But shit, instead of be pointing fingers, why not try to ask what is the problem? Or better yet, why not try to keep his mouth shut? Shit, shit, shit. I had never taken the anxiety with Christmas so early. Shit. One more month, and already I can not wait to see me in January, when the street sweepers will clean the dirt left from the old year, always too many vendors selling out the inventory, people would revert to the usual shit, fake without doing good, will return to think for themselves, trying to buy a shirt that had seen earlier in the season but were not allowed to buy, however, complaining that the price seems too high. And I'll be back then to be alone without feeling so different. And at least until Easter, I can breathe a bit '. And I thought about going to work on Christmas Day, watch the sad faces of other people who pretend to enjoy it makes me feel better. But we know the grandparents, older, and perhaps will be the last I'll be spending Christmas with them. I can not lose. I do not want to lose it. And then I put aside pride and sadness, and go. Still missing a month, and already beginning to miss the air. Fuck.

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Ask me if I'm happy

And I do not know what it is, maybe the sun this morning with bullying occurred to my eyes still sleepy, perhaps the laughter that I made last night in a game, maybe it is just a day. I do not know. I just know I woke up full of good intentions, I just know that while I was driving I felt inside a serene calm, and I drove up, and I do not usually get angry with the idiots who populate the streets, and felt the warm sun on my face, fresh air coming in through the open window. And I was quiet. And they are quiet. And after dinner I'll start studying, I want to graduate, and then finally do something I like. I'm going to study what I like, what I will ever need in life. I must make amends for the wrong choices, I grow, I want to change, and I will be happy. I want to be happy.

want to be happy with me and for me.

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... and suddenly the tears fall as I drove in silence to the house, and the voice of Samuel background repeating " day to lose for a good night to pretend that you know live "... those two so expect tears and never came down ... and do not understand why tears come down ... and I can not stop them. tears come down, and I'm lonely. I sink into an abyss, tears come down and I can not stop them, nobody can stop them, neither do you. Not that you want. You're no longer the object of my desires. Yes, now dreams of love, one in which I have never believed, that in which I hope now to smile again every night. I'm fallin 'love, I who until a month ago I sang that love does not exist, that is a joke, which is an invention to catch the suckers. I do not believe him, now I find myself to plead, to beg.

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A pleasant evening, a pleasant evening with an almost perfect evening. A coffee bar, and a long walk: no beer, no strange attraction of games and no sentimentality, not as an evening spent in a long time. An evening to talk, and you're no longer in my thoughts. For three hours I've never thought of, nor have I ever regretted. I was fine, there in the cold to walk, and walk, and still walk. And all the while talking. Surprising as I spoke this evening ... without going into details, but for three hours I was able to hold a conversation, some of which also concerned me. Or maybe that's just me. I do not do requests, I do not care to know the lives of others, I do not care. But it was nice to see that someone is interested in mine. and I was fine, that's what I felt inside, only a profound peace. And you were not there anymore, and not that you take your seat, and never will ... but tonight she made me smile. It distracted me from the usual thoughts. And before returning home, I stopped in the street to roll a cigarette, and me alone in the cold are smoked. Under a cloudy sky, with his nose running down, I stayed there, motionless in front of the front door, watching the thick smoke coming out of my mouth to dissipate into nothingness. I wanted to take a little 'inside that feeling of peace that I know that soon will fade. But tonight I can smile at last going to sleep tonight I will not feel the emptiness that does not make me fall asleep every night, and forces me to curl up in a corner of the bed is too big and too cold. No, I'm here tonight, and there is you, tonight I'm here, and there is a big smile to myself.

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a glance. Just one look, but I came inside. And I could not help thinking during the return trip, while I was driving up in the company of my stereo. it was just a look, fuck it, a simple look that did not mean anything. And then she is really too much for me. I return quietly to my usual thoughts. But I must admit it was nice to try a new thrill.

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Just a big, huge void. I try to fill the gaps with the other. and I am the night reading blogs, blogs written with style and depressed. I took part in the pain of people who even know, I heard their emptiness as if it were mine, I joined my empty his own. I'd like to exchange our empty. but given the anonymity the network is as safe as impersonal. ANONIMAT O.

I drag my feet on the street, and avoid puddles becomes my only thought. and at home bent my back on the books, and I do not talk to anyone. That ball has become the only reason why it is worthwhile to take out cold running after a ball is the closest thing to life stirs something inside me, and I understand that they are still alive. When the puddles are no longer to be avoided but simply become part of the land on which to run, when after 90 minutes I can no longer stand up when I jump the enemy and then I run after, when the heart trembles for the kick-off when the strong pull ball field to make a change, when a shot taken makes me feel pain, then when I get angry and react. The reaction with that ball I can find a reaction, a ransom. Then I take off my shoes, the wash, I wash and I put my new adidas and dirty routes. And back to the great void. Back to avoid the puddles, back anonymity, silence took over, with its vacuum that is filled. Lathes, too, sometimes, even your back still hurts thinking, the memory returns. It comes back empty.

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If the day I can not think of you, you curse the night and when at last check there is only emptiness around dawn me. The night you appear to me immense, in vain attempt to catch, but you enjoy tormenting me. The night you make me crazy.

The night drives me crazy drives me crazy.

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E 'in the evenings so that I will miss you. On those nights when the alcohol is frighteningly high, and while riding through the city deserted feel the cold wind that cuts you the ears, but it goes to fill the void that you left. You and I shared two things that we are finally, finally I no longer belong to you. resist this stupid want you, only due to my loneliness and my stupid need to have someone to turn to the last thought at night. Shall I henceforth be my one and only thought, the first in the morning and the last before falling asleep. but tonight the alcohol content is too high, and I'm so damn lonely.