Ku.
Doppia vù.
E.
Erre.
Ti.
Ipsilon.
I soliti tasti di sempre. Un po’ consumati, è vero.
Mi fanno compagnia, le mie dita ormai li conoscono come fossero le loro estensioni. Non molto lontano da qui c’è gente che mi maledice per l’ennesimo bidone. “Scusatemi. Scusatemi tanto.”
Sapete come sono fatto. Troppo proud, fatalistic. At the same time I give to my usual weaknesses. Get dressed, go downstairs, start the car: untold hardships. I force myself to bed. In my mind it creates images of the evening that I wanted to live. Mistaken some proportion, some shade of color. But the smiles are there, and I'm even well dressed. Brilliant. Solitude in my reverie does not concern me. The sky and space seem even brighter, and not remain deaf as empty here.
close my eyes in the dark.
And back to see his facial features are perfect. My hands slide from my hips to the sheets. Pat the cotton, I try to evoke the memory of the skin under my fingers. Sculpt illusion light of the contours of an ear, the perfect china for a neck, the curve of her cheekbones, I try to imagine the knot in a hug, to breathe the same air-time and shared secret with her.
I open my eyes in the dark.
I just have the weight on the folds of my mouth. From the window come the whispers of the night, tired and a wind that takes my nagging feeling the heat. Voices from the other room with television, there's no one beside me in my bed and I'm really close to a square.
I stay seated.
I still have time to dress, to go down the stairs to start the machine. I just have to start doing. The others are there to curse me for not being arrived.
I am reminded that I do not want anyway, I do not think that I helped. As a raft find the old thinking that leads me to this room. Where there's a chair, a desk, a monitor, keyboard of the computer: I can sculpt this time.
Ku.
Double You.
E.
Erre.
Ti.
Ipsilon.
Doppia vù.
E.
Erre.
Ti.
Ipsilon.
I soliti tasti di sempre. Un po’ consumati, è vero.
Mi fanno compagnia, le mie dita ormai li conoscono come fossero le loro estensioni. Non molto lontano da qui c’è gente che mi maledice per l’ennesimo bidone. “Scusatemi. Scusatemi tanto.”
Sapete come sono fatto. Troppo proud, fatalistic. At the same time I give to my usual weaknesses. Get dressed, go downstairs, start the car: untold hardships. I force myself to bed. In my mind it creates images of the evening that I wanted to live. Mistaken some proportion, some shade of color. But the smiles are there, and I'm even well dressed. Brilliant. Solitude in my reverie does not concern me. The sky and space seem even brighter, and not remain deaf as empty here.
close my eyes in the dark.
And back to see his facial features are perfect. My hands slide from my hips to the sheets. Pat the cotton, I try to evoke the memory of the skin under my fingers. Sculpt illusion light of the contours of an ear, the perfect china for a neck, the curve of her cheekbones, I try to imagine the knot in a hug, to breathe the same air-time and shared secret with her.
I open my eyes in the dark.
I just have the weight on the folds of my mouth. From the window come the whispers of the night, tired and a wind that takes my nagging feeling the heat. Voices from the other room with television, there's no one beside me in my bed and I'm really close to a square.
I stay seated.
I still have time to dress, to go down the stairs to start the machine. I just have to start doing. The others are there to curse me for not being arrived.
I am reminded that I do not want anyway, I do not think that I helped. As a raft find the old thinking that leads me to this room. Where there's a chair, a desk, a monitor, keyboard of the computer: I can sculpt this time.
Ku.
Double You.
E.
Erre.
Ti.
Ipsilon.
0 comments:
Post a Comment