Thursday, May 10, 2007

a seed of hell, a spell, of a dieing dream, i loved you my love

the time is approaching fast, time to say good by to this place, that i always have to leave just when it gets awake and stuffed with feelings.

just when it gets a nice place to be in, i have to get out.

smoke a cigarette outside the department, the guy of the greenhouse, red in the face, perennial smile, "time for the balaclava again", says to me and to the last wind of the season. the guy of the storehouse, straight on his back, gentle smile, wide open mouth in saying "hi, yannez". mr. wild-cock, in his sixties that i'd like to reach as fit as he is, but lees gay, incredible wise and chikey smile, "hi, yannez", "hi chris, how's going". C came to visit me, i just could feel it was not right, a humanist there, bad vibes, bad sync, no sync at all. you must be in sync with this department, and just feel it.

i've been part of it, i've been it, i mean, we have been it.

click click click, 50 years run on the model, and so for 2000 years. it's hot looking at you my dear, i wonder if we'll never speak at all, or just remember we use to look at each other in between clicks and clicks.

i broke an heart, heavily, most completely. my madness vanishes, dropping a seed of hell. but was i fool to love you? i was fool, but not to love you. i had a fever, my angel, you knew that, you've been better fool to care for my sickness. we messed it up, ah? there's plenty of dreams dying fat in your mind, ah? you can feel their bodies agonizing and shaking, their voices moaning, moaning to death. can, can you my love? i enjoy nostalgy and plan to get away from stress, plan reflexive time for myself between the coast and other eyes to look in caring, a bit. well those bodies dieing are not quite moaning, listen carefully, as i can hear, i can hear the spell my love. how many spells between me and you, ah? are those gonna be the last? so, you're planning to make a tomb of your head, for all your dreams. have i nourished them? yes i did. there's no way out of a crime. i'm sorry my love, i loved you so much, in my shit, crazy head. my bacterial love, i might have got it from rats, from lices, from a nerve not feeling too well. was a bell rang holding a rope in the collapse. it was a bit like this. i hope you live my love, i hope live. and if you live, i hope you don't want to kill me. drunk of insanity we've been good together.
mad as the children we could feel our love was true.


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