I write every day, almost never
cheerfully,
rarely smile, I despair
easily and quickly move your fingers, knock
keys with these hands,
faster Mexican boxers, squinting
this screen,
was not even the image of my hell,
is my intent to make money, not
with art, that's for sure.
preferred are the treat of bad luck,
not believe that will not bite mica,
consumes me and throws me down, I miss
a tiramisu.
Swallow my paranoia, and then
he released his torpedo
and repeatedly puts me in the ass.
not judge me, I beg you, you already know that
are insecure.
The money, some have too many
and who has no eyes to cry,
I'll never buy them, but I hope in a salary
so for a while 'survive,
Otherwise, Acidelle life, I take a
revolver, so I can make the beautiful
and I'll see you at last as good as Nutella.
Francesco Favia
Wednesday, May 21, 2008 ore 14:08
http://ciscofavia.blogspot.com/
www.nonsolocronache.com
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