“Scricchiola. Produce un suono fastidioso. Lo so che è la seggiola, solo e soltanto la seggiola, yet I'm lying on the bed. I wobble. I have to move these legs, so disgustingly skinny. Here
clean. It 's my room and clean it thoroughly. What fools. Naive. But then I clean their rooms. Fool myself. I get up early and can barely sleep at night. I could write. In fact I could write, but I'm not capable. Shit. I can not. If only I could talk instead of write. If only we could do and I love her. Again.
The chair creaks. If I do not moves are finished. Because then I start to shake. Those hideous spasms. Cool. If only I could make you laugh as before. Fool. Acrobat's buffoonery. She just laughed at me. What the hell will got my face? Perhaps it was also my scent that made her laugh. Always clean and fragrant. Once I even got a deodorant. So, because I was going. Not that you stink, in fact.
If I do not have everything all at once I feel insane. Mad. Ridgemont High. I also lose some hair, but my father is not bald. If only I could go back I would do everything at once. Marrying and having children. We had a fight, sure.
am smart but I do not apply. I want to fight. I need to fight. And 'the fury breaks my brain. So do not go crazy. So noises and feelings do not give a damn for a while '. I am just a fury. Knuckles. Hands. I'm just cuts and bruises. Yet she loved my hands.
I get up. Sto. The fury and spasms are a "I can not go back." Clever. Ready to take back everything I've stolen. Because first of all I've stolen me. Instead she stole my heart. Me that has chained heart. And 'if it beats, beats so arrogant. I am arrogant. But even smart. An ace.
Sto. I do not walk, I do not get up, otherwise I will be out all arrogance.
Living day as the long days. Or moments. She would be my longest day, if only I were capable. The Bad I would give. Even in the legs. Then she told me a story or a joke to make me kill the pain. Invented stories of healthy plant. Sometimes I even invented my life. What a guy! What a fool! I dare not look at others and the others did not dare look at me.
cigarettes. The I put somewhere. Two, three packages around. What a buffoon. If only I had understood before. If only I had not missed the daily life. I would not be here. Creaks. It moves by itself. I want my gun. And the wig that I used. Than intelligence. I do not ever pecked, guys.
If I had the gun now I put it in your mouth. Fool. To make a joke on someone.
Smoke. I drink. But they did not reach the water. Damn. I pretend to spit. Dehydrated. Points the gun at them. Naive. After
aver fumato vorrei stare con lei. Lei non mi ricorda neanche lontanamente mia madre. Neanche mio padre. Lei non è me. Sono solo io che vorrei essere lei, ma non posso. Lei non vorrebbe essere me. Se potessi toccherei quel suo seno tenero e piccolo. Se potessi la lascerei libera. Questa stanza puzza. Lavare, pulire, mangiare il grano con le mani, a morsi, senza cuocerlo. Devo fare quei lavori. Domani. Adesso è tardi, ma forse prima di spengere la luce scrivo.
E’ un rischio. Corro troppi rischi. E sono pericoloso. Perché? Merda. Quella sedia la romperei in mille pezzi. Ma guarda che braccia. Niente muscoli. Però ne ho date di botte a quei bastardi. Se solo qualcuno osava: botte! Cazzotti e pedate. Poi che sapore acre sulle labbra. Stench of sweat, blood clotted. Crushed. Do not see almost nothing, with eyes so clouded. Flowed. Large swellings were born. What a buffoon.
But I could laugh. I could change voice. And she laughed, you would not believe. My face. Dear face.
I could shave. Maybe a shower. But then someone could tell me I'm beautiful. She told me and what I got angry. I hate to hear me say I'm beautiful. Demeanor. Confidentiality. Distrust of everything. So everything is crap. But she did not. She lives in the trees. Never falls, but I know cry for me. Cry out for me.
I sleep. Both dream and then I can not sleep. I will write tomorrow. And tomorrow and tomorrow. Why so I do not know if I get out. If you do it. If you shoot.
sleep. The chair creaks
no more ... "
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