.
Day 2! The wind do-does the fandango among the curtains.
Oh baby (you don't even hear): ain't the life that miracle? I saw an arch in the sky, built in patience and festive feet; and I saw even more!
Saw the smile of the derelict ones, and a dead angel who was born again: he made the others smile, but he couldn't smile. Poor angel!
And I saw you out of tears, and I...
Miserable puzzle, my life, oh insane heritage of the western races!
Condemned the west was to see the steely meanders, the titanic diamonds of the Abaddon's path.
The svelt ozone of the night sky Belzebub? (sic)
Wait! Who are you! I don't recognise you, leave my miseries alone! Cruel of mine, cruel!
Do-I-have-to-put-the-scalene-structure-of-the-cosmos-at-your-feet?
Do I have to turn myself into a man-dawn, relaunched into a holographic body, señorita?
I CAN'T, MONA! CAN'T YOU SEE MY VEINS? THEY ARE OPEN!
I'm dead.
Hey, day 2! I will settle a flag on my brow like an opprobium, and I won't say a word anymore.
By savage, sublunar lands I roamed; at the edge of the terminal barbarity I sat down, to watch the world with albatross eyes.
And your arms?
Arms of extinguished star for me: en bonne santé I shot myself with a gun of repugnant winds every fucking night.
And the constellations just pay me back with the baffling shouts of the idiot?
My dodgy diadem, ensign and Lucifera of my complex pain...je ne veux pleurer pas.
As in absurd procession I went by, along an interminable road; they did cover my face with spits, I smiled mechanically like a marionette: where's the helping hand?
Day 2: when? Tell me: when?
If I tell you I adore you, I don't lie, possibly that's my fault. The life is a miracle, I keep on stalking my own shadow, like a raving lunatic...
In the halcyon afternoon I'm dead, hurt and hopelessly sad. Here I puke my dumb communiqué.
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