Why Does The Tip Of My Tongue Hurt

Cercherò su di me quelle risposte non date. Che non mi vengono date.
Partendo dai piedi proverò a capire i passi fatti, le circonvallazioni percorse dietro a locali o parlando coi conducenti. Dalle unghie rotte sui campi di periferia, per capire cosa mi resta di un sogno iniziato a sei anni, con un pallone e poche speranze.
Non sono belli, ma sono tutta la strada che ho fatto. Sono tutta la strada che sono riuscito a fare, senza precauzioni o passaggi filtrati da amici preoccupati.
La scia lasciata dalle mie camminate non è sempre dritta e lascia sempre il dubbio vivo nella mente, che io non sappia mai dove andare. Ma la parola MAI ha un peso troppo grande.
on me I will not have had those signs.
Going down to the knees that now fall to pieces. Rusty joints in a short time, full of body weight, the barrel and jump to get there before evening the next day.
I would say the operations were successful, continue to accuse me of trying with a knee without a hitch. I could not answer that except that when you do not feel the pain. When you want to.
try on me the scars left by others on other bodies. Because basically it also lives on the lives of those who made you.
ask a liver bile and to throw out the back to get angry as before. Like when it's raining outside. The dinners in restaurants improbable past and say quanto non può essere così, ieri come oggi, prima come dopo.
Chiedendo a un cuore di pompare sempre di più, perchè quando vuoi sai buttarlo oltre quelle mura con cui ti opprimi la mente. Anche se sai che non hai qualità, ma riesci a simularle. In altre forme, in altri colori, con la stessa resa.
Cercherò su di me la voglia di andare oltre il padrone, il padronato e la commozione.
Chiedendo alle mia braccia, alla mia schiena e al mio petto di farsi forza e tirare su il palazzo che è nella mia testa, chiuso tra schizzi di inchiostro, ricordi e qualche idea.
Anche quando la stanchezza ti fa dire "chi me lo fa fare" o per scaricare tensioni prendendo a bottigliate i fantasmi nella testa.
Cercherò about me pieces of other people, things that I have lived, stories that I wrote.
asking my eyes to see a little farther on, in addition to my feet and my self. In addition to street lit by lamplight. Deleting self-centeredness that has led to a cause, but gives no benefit.
bringing tears to my eyes every time it sees fit, without shame of the other eye could judge. I want to see everything and see what I can not, I imagine, reading, writing. Even keeping them closed.
try on me. Point.
asking me to head to be deployed unless and my thought to be less present. Losing myself in speeches made in the wrong night, walking backwards o correndo sul posto.
Girando le parole si possono cambiare i significati e allo stesso tempo non dire nulla. Anche senza stare in silenzio. Forse mi sono soltanto perso in un labirinto con troppe vie d'uscita, come un giro di chitarra in un pezzo che dal country sfocia in una ballata rock.
Cercherò su di me, già.

cacato dalla capa di

Why Does The Tip Of My Tongue Hurt

Cercherò su di me quelle risposte non date. Che non mi vengono date.
Partendo dai piedi proverò a capire i passi fatti, le circonvallazioni percorse dietro a locali o parlando coi conducenti. Dalle unghie rotte sui campi di periferia, per capire cosa mi resta di un sogno iniziato a sei anni, con un pallone e poche speranze.
Non sono belli, ma sono tutta la strada che ho fatto. Sono tutta la strada che sono riuscito a fare, senza precauzioni o passaggi filtrati da amici preoccupati.
La scia lasciata dalle mie camminate non è sempre dritta e lascia sempre il dubbio vivo nella mente, che io non sappia mai dove andare. Ma la parola MAI ha un peso troppo grande.
on me I will not have had those signs.
Going down to the knees that now fall to pieces. Rusty joints in a short time, full of body weight, the barrel and jump to get there before evening the next day.
I would say the operations were successful, continue to accuse me of trying with a knee without a hitch. I could not answer that except that when you do not feel the pain. When you want to.
try on me the scars left by others on other bodies. Because basically it also lives on the lives of those who made you.
ask a liver bile and to throw out the back to get angry as before. Like when it's raining outside. The dinners in restaurants improbable past and say quanto non può essere così, ieri come oggi, prima come dopo.
Chiedendo a un cuore di pompare sempre di più, perchè quando vuoi sai buttarlo oltre quelle mura con cui ti opprimi la mente. Anche se sai che non hai qualità, ma riesci a simularle. In altre forme, in altri colori, con la stessa resa.
Cercherò su di me la voglia di andare oltre il padrone, il padronato e la commozione.
Chiedendo alle mia braccia, alla mia schiena e al mio petto di farsi forza e tirare su il palazzo che è nella mia testa, chiuso tra schizzi di inchiostro, ricordi e qualche idea.
Anche quando la stanchezza ti fa dire "chi me lo fa fare" o per scaricare tensioni prendendo a bottigliate i fantasmi nella testa.
Cercherò about me pieces of other people, things that I have lived, stories that I wrote.
asking my eyes to see a little farther on, in addition to my feet and my self. In addition to street lit by lamplight. Deleting self-centeredness that has led to a cause, but gives no benefit.
bringing tears to my eyes every time it sees fit, without shame of the other eye could judge. I want to see everything and see what I can not, I imagine, reading, writing. Even keeping them closed.
try on me. Point.
asking me to head to be deployed unless and my thought to be less present. Losing myself in speeches made in the wrong night, walking backwards o correndo sul posto.
Girando le parole si possono cambiare i significati e allo stesso tempo non dire nulla. Anche senza stare in silenzio. Forse mi sono soltanto perso in un labirinto con troppe vie d'uscita, come un giro di chitarra in un pezzo che dal country sfocia in una ballata rock.
Cercherò su di me, già.

cacato dalla capa di

Disconnection Letter For Broadband

I belch in the middle called D **

Tra una cosa e l'altra c'è modo di vedere quello che non c'è.
Così è per questo che ti credi finito, ti senti sfinito e guardi l'infinito.
Credo che avrei potuto fare una fine migliore ma sarei dovuto partire da un inizio migliore.
Credo che le cose vadano in maniera direttamente proporzionale nella maggior parte della cose. Quelle in cui non goes well I will not even imagine.
I think if I could believe a little more into what I would have no more faith in God and in myself. No approach is clear, I drink, swear and I did not saints in heaven.
If you look carefully in the basket of dirty things, odd socks and underwear in addition to well-educated, I also ran after the years of nothing done only for the sake of having out of breath at the end, she had gone a little farther.
I think at that time when I pulled back because I wanted to just do it.
I think with all the trains that I let go into the eyes of those looking out the window. If only I had committed more hours I could drive it quel treno, ma visto il mio successo con la guida meglio lasciar perdere.
Credo che forse dovrei smetterla di credere anche a queste cose o al poco che credo.
Credo di non ricordare più dov'è quel posto che pensavo fosse definitivo.
Sono convinto che credere e pensare non abbiano motivo di essere accostabili. Due linee che si inseguono all'infinito e si incontrano solo quando l'occhio non arriva più a distinguer l'orizzonte. Perchè anche l'occhio vuole la sua parte.
Credo di ritenere interessante l'immagine di me, con tutti i pregiudizi che ho verso i ragazzi come me. Fintamente appartenenti a qualcosa o a qualcuno.
Credo di parlare a caso il più delle volte e che non sempre vengo ascoltato quando parlo veramente, after all, the only story I have always believed is that of Peter and the Wolf.
In the refrigerator I have everything I need. Beer, wine, meat bones and other parts that were once alive. Cans, and some ideas that I can not sneak look to follow up.
I believe in walking aimlessly, without a mid-life and the apple cut in half, which joins other half. Color and taste different, sometimes opposite.
I believe in looking out the window to see the world standing still and observing a screen divided into squares and do not understand a shit.
I tell the hours spent in the past to see the future, passing through the present. Combining everything as perfect, just the wrong punctuation.
I believe in the sons of sons of bitches and queens, often uniting in the same figure of a woman.
I think you wasted no time today to read these things, but obviously you should have reached the end.

shit from head to

Disconnection Letter For Broadband

I belch in the middle called D **

Tra una cosa e l'altra c'è modo di vedere quello che non c'è.
Così è per questo che ti credi finito, ti senti sfinito e guardi l'infinito.
Credo che avrei potuto fare una fine migliore ma sarei dovuto partire da un inizio migliore.
Credo che le cose vadano in maniera direttamente proporzionale nella maggior parte della cose. Quelle in cui non goes well I will not even imagine.
I think if I could believe a little more into what I would have no more faith in God and in myself. No approach is clear, I drink, swear and I did not saints in heaven.
If you look carefully in the basket of dirty things, odd socks and underwear in addition to well-educated, I also ran after the years of nothing done only for the sake of having out of breath at the end, she had gone a little farther.
I think at that time when I pulled back because I wanted to just do it.
I think with all the trains that I let go into the eyes of those looking out the window. If only I had committed more hours I could drive it quel treno, ma visto il mio successo con la guida meglio lasciar perdere.
Credo che forse dovrei smetterla di credere anche a queste cose o al poco che credo.
Credo di non ricordare più dov'è quel posto che pensavo fosse definitivo.
Sono convinto che credere e pensare non abbiano motivo di essere accostabili. Due linee che si inseguono all'infinito e si incontrano solo quando l'occhio non arriva più a distinguer l'orizzonte. Perchè anche l'occhio vuole la sua parte.
Credo di ritenere interessante l'immagine di me, con tutti i pregiudizi che ho verso i ragazzi come me. Fintamente appartenenti a qualcosa o a qualcuno.
Credo di parlare a caso il più delle volte e che non sempre vengo ascoltato quando parlo veramente, after all, the only story I have always believed is that of Peter and the Wolf.
In the refrigerator I have everything I need. Beer, wine, meat bones and other parts that were once alive. Cans, and some ideas that I can not sneak look to follow up.
I believe in walking aimlessly, without a mid-life and the apple cut in half, which joins other half. Color and taste different, sometimes opposite.
I believe in looking out the window to see the world standing still and observing a screen divided into squares and do not understand a shit.
I tell the hours spent in the past to see the future, passing through the present. Combining everything as perfect, just the wrong punctuation.
I believe in the sons of sons of bitches and queens, often uniting in the same figure of a woman.
I think you wasted no time today to read these things, but obviously you should have reached the end.

shit from head to

Nadine Jansen Movie Stream

No Glass

The most beautiful sea of \u200b\u200bmy life. Opening the window of what was my room for hours and even if for a few days, I could see it.
in the distance. I have never seen a beach like that, even at dawn, even on rainy days or quiet apparent. I think I deserved and essermelo enough, but I do not know why, it's been too many years now. The calm
date from the first light of morning soon born from the ashes of the night before, without being in the past letto di nessuno, col cuscino ancora intatto dal passaggio della donna delle pulizie. Chi l'ha detto che alle 6 meno venti del mattino il caffè sia meglio di una birra fredda?
E' solo questione di abitudine.
Una stanza non mia, un letto non mio, una finestra non mia. Amici a condividere gli odori.
Però ciò che è intorno è anche mio, partendo dall'aria che respiro sino al mare, con tutto quello che ci sta in mezzo. Fino al mare appunto.
Perchè tutto il Mondo sia meritevole di essere, senza necessità o aiuti.
Quella calma piatta del mare d'inverno, anche se è Agosto e il sole comincia a dare cenni di esserci, educatamente ma con insistenza.
Guardare fermi fuori dalla finestra, a slight breeze to stay awake, someone snoring in the background, others are considering whether to stay or to remain vigilant to wait for the sun.
A sip of beer to calculate the length of thought, to hear how long it takes to be there in the middle of the sea. My breath has the aroma of the beer drunk in the evening, but does the same a small cloud as it exits the mouth, perhaps from the cold, perhaps due to moisture.
As a child I liked to think that those clouds were the words, the weight of words, a "hello" or "you are, please."
Even breathing is less labored than I think.
From the window I see the sky and the sea flat calm and relax thinking that maybe one day I will be so. Together seem to get lost in the infinity up to a point where I'll never get even with your eyes closed.
The line that divides the sky and the sea has never been as clear as that morning.
At that moment I wanted to cry thinking they could write about everything without knowing anything.

shit from head to

Nadine Jansen Movie Stream

No Glass

The most beautiful sea of \u200b\u200bmy life. Opening the window of what was my room for hours and even if for a few days, I could see it.
in the distance. I have never seen a beach like that, even at dawn, even on rainy days or quiet apparent. I think I deserved and essermelo enough, but I do not know why, it's been too many years now. The calm
date from the first light of morning soon born from the ashes of the night before, without being in the past letto di nessuno, col cuscino ancora intatto dal passaggio della donna delle pulizie. Chi l'ha detto che alle 6 meno venti del mattino il caffè sia meglio di una birra fredda?
E' solo questione di abitudine.
Una stanza non mia, un letto non mio, una finestra non mia. Amici a condividere gli odori.
Però ciò che è intorno è anche mio, partendo dall'aria che respiro sino al mare, con tutto quello che ci sta in mezzo. Fino al mare appunto.
Perchè tutto il Mondo sia meritevole di essere, senza necessità o aiuti.
Quella calma piatta del mare d'inverno, anche se è Agosto e il sole comincia a dare cenni di esserci, educatamente ma con insistenza.
Guardare fermi fuori dalla finestra, a slight breeze to stay awake, someone snoring in the background, others are considering whether to stay or to remain vigilant to wait for the sun.
A sip of beer to calculate the length of thought, to hear how long it takes to be there in the middle of the sea. My breath has the aroma of the beer drunk in the evening, but does the same a small cloud as it exits the mouth, perhaps from the cold, perhaps due to moisture.
As a child I liked to think that those clouds were the words, the weight of words, a "hello" or "you are, please."
Even breathing is less labored than I think.
From the window I see the sky and the sea flat calm and relax thinking that maybe one day I will be so. Together seem to get lost in the infinity up to a point where I'll never get even with your eyes closed.
The line that divides the sky and the sea has never been as clear as that morning.
At that moment I wanted to cry thinking they could write about everything without knowing anything.

shit from head to

Breastfeeding Prn Vedeos

The pace is always the same

I want for Christmas this year was hot. Bluntly and smiles of fact, no half measures. But hot. Because heat does not just mean time heat, sun or sea or whatever is around us. No, what I do not give a damn.
I want it hot like the bed when I woke up as a child.
I want to take away the thought of tomorrow, when look at the sky and there you hear nothing but the horn of the machines or the cell phone ringtones.
infamous Grey sky called love. Respond nothing. Long
rounds returns and returns and returns from leave without anything, in the vortex of a complex completion slow. The everyday, relative, friend face the mirror.
Where am when I look out the window? Now I'm lost in these streets, I look for the trail of some trams, but I do not recognize any faces.
Maybe a driver, sometimes a distracted passerby, but nobody recognizes me.
moment of bewilderment, I tidy up. It 's Christmas. I want the heat.
In the distance I see the old approach, the shadow curve and the slow pace. They are my Grandparents are the ones who are here for Christmas ... the closer they come the greater the emotion, the closer they come more salt frustration. Can not be them, they died years ago.
without telling me why, have gone along with the heat I needed.
there I was, without a half away, on the one hand, a bus stop that leads nowhere and the other a pair of old men who do not know, but I wanted to know.
Indecision leads me to hesitate, I get on the first available means, look down, I run after spring. I stare out the window, which I keep open to stay awake and not sleep.
breathe the cold air slaps il volto.
In strada accanto ad una rete vedo un padre coi suoi figli intenti a guardare gli aerei che decollano. Quelli che atterrano, quelli fermi. Ricordo quando da bambino andavo al Parco con mio padre e mio nonno, ma non piango, non mi commuovo.
Penso solo alla semplicità delle cose belle, al loro calore.
Scendo e sono in piazza buia di un posto che non so dov’è, cosa sia. Di sicuro non ci sono mai stato, non è casa mia.
Scendo e mi guardo attorno, tutta ha la sua dimensione e sembra continuare a vivere nonostante la mia presenza sia invasiva, fuori luogo.
Tutto ha il suo senso pur con la mia presenza. Ricomincia un vortice nella mia testa.
Non fa caldo, non è Natale, ma io lo voglio caldo lo itself.

shit from head to

Breastfeeding Prn Vedeos

The pace is always the same

I want for Christmas this year was hot. Bluntly and smiles of fact, no half measures. But hot. Because heat does not just mean time heat, sun or sea or whatever is around us. No, what I do not give a damn.
I want it hot like the bed when I woke up as a child.
I want to take away the thought of tomorrow, when look at the sky and there you hear nothing but the horn of the machines or the cell phone ringtones.
infamous Grey sky called love. Respond nothing. Long
rounds returns and returns and returns from leave without anything, in the vortex of a complex completion slow. The everyday, relative, friend face the mirror.
Where am when I look out the window? Now I'm lost in these streets, I look for the trail of some trams, but I do not recognize any faces.
Maybe a driver, sometimes a distracted passerby, but nobody recognizes me.
moment of bewilderment, I tidy up. It 's Christmas. I want the heat.
In the distance I see the old approach, the shadow curve and the slow pace. They are my Grandparents are the ones who are here for Christmas ... the closer they come the greater the emotion, the closer they come more salt frustration. Can not be them, they died years ago.
without telling me why, have gone along with the heat I needed.
there I was, without a half away, on the one hand, a bus stop that leads nowhere and the other a pair of old men who do not know, but I wanted to know.
Indecision leads me to hesitate, I get on the first available means, look down, I run after spring. I stare out the window, which I keep open to stay awake and not sleep.
breathe the cold air slaps il volto.
In strada accanto ad una rete vedo un padre coi suoi figli intenti a guardare gli aerei che decollano. Quelli che atterrano, quelli fermi. Ricordo quando da bambino andavo al Parco con mio padre e mio nonno, ma non piango, non mi commuovo.
Penso solo alla semplicità delle cose belle, al loro calore.
Scendo e sono in piazza buia di un posto che non so dov’è, cosa sia. Di sicuro non ci sono mai stato, non è casa mia.
Scendo e mi guardo attorno, tutta ha la sua dimensione e sembra continuare a vivere nonostante la mia presenza sia invasiva, fuori luogo.
Tutto ha il suo senso pur con la mia presenza. Ricomincia un vortice nella mia testa.
Non fa caldo, non è Natale, ma io lo voglio caldo lo itself.

shit from head to

Luggage Number Lock Reset

The function of the recalculation of your tears

It 's the dignity of an old point of arrival. Moving from stroller to wheelchair that will accompany my final days. The wisdom of the old as a guide when you need it blindly advancing to conquer anything, even an ordinary salary.
years of call center, copy and paste photocopies. I lost days of my life listening to fundamental insistent noise of a copier, 90, grew up during the most total vacuum. Young Italians who do not read more newspapers that do not sell anymore.
The crisis of the press is not given by ecological reasons, but cultural.
to Generation X-rays, still below the thousand euro, reached at 28 years and perhaps lost very soon. It seemed to me that it was not true. All this money for me? But really?
90s still calculated in pounds, because for us all today is worth double.
From qualification to the proposed work.
"Learn to be an apprentice, and perhaps a few years will be able to find a permanent place to get to your dream board." Learn
jerk and dreams of retirement.
time calculations to arrive later this month for spending Saturday and baking frozen, being careful not to collide with the truck full of gratitude as we collect when we were kids with the figurines. He thanked those who makes you work, who gives food, who makes you breathe. Do not think of who makes you excited. What is emotion.
think, dream, live, want a life impulse. Calculate
good answers and times of forced removal from the place where you are, always keep your free space. Being careful not to touch those around you, without running the risk of knowing him.
because over time you can always find someone who can take your place, your time and your size. Recalculation of the time to review the position to take.
to decide whether it is worth going or if it is better to go back, so that makes us who do take risks. I already have dinner ready and made the bed, a job, a woman and the dog runs me meeting as soon as I saw in the driveway of my villa.
still I learn how to move, observe the movement of wind through the leaves, I remain captivated by its color, so strong and so clear and remains stationary. Without changing ways and positions. As Christmas is coming, what is gone, what we are experiencing. Upside down. Recalculation, stop emotional. I'm ready to go without knowing where the fuck go.

** wrote one evening, some time ago, maybe he will do something otherwise it will give the cat

shit from head to

Luggage Number Lock Reset

The function of the recalculation of your tears

It 's the dignity of an old point of arrival. Moving from stroller to wheelchair that will accompany my final days. The wisdom of the old as a guide when you need it blindly advancing to conquer anything, even an ordinary salary.
years of call center, copy and paste photocopies. I lost days of my life listening to fundamental insistent noise of a copier, 90, grew up during the most total vacuum. Young Italians who do not read more newspapers that do not sell anymore.
The crisis of the press is not given by ecological reasons, but cultural.
to Generation X-rays, still below the thousand euro, reached at 28 years and perhaps lost very soon. It seemed to me that it was not true. All this money for me? But really?
90s still calculated in pounds, because for us all today is worth double.
From qualification to the proposed work.
"Learn to be an apprentice, and perhaps a few years will be able to find a permanent place to get to your dream board." Learn
jerk and dreams of retirement.
time calculations to arrive later this month for spending Saturday and baking frozen, being careful not to collide with the truck full of gratitude as we collect when we were kids with the figurines. He thanked those who makes you work, who gives food, who makes you breathe. Do not think of who makes you excited. What is emotion.
think, dream, live, want a life impulse. Calculate
good answers and times of forced removal from the place where you are, always keep your free space. Being careful not to touch those around you, without running the risk of knowing him.
because over time you can always find someone who can take your place, your time and your size. Recalculation of the time to review the position to take.
to decide whether it is worth going or if it is better to go back, so that makes us who do take risks. I already have dinner ready and made the bed, a job, a woman and the dog runs me meeting as soon as I saw in the driveway of my villa.
still I learn how to move, observe the movement of wind through the leaves, I remain captivated by its color, so strong and so clear and remains stationary. Without changing ways and positions. As Christmas is coming, what is gone, what we are experiencing. Upside down. Recalculation, stop emotional. I'm ready to go without knowing where the fuck go.

** wrote one evening, some time ago, maybe he will do something otherwise it will give the cat

shit from head to

Can You Get High On Rivotril

comforted

I forgot again that you die all the time. Every day a little at a time. Day and on nights and gradually falling off every last hair.
I forgot to say my prayers every day and put the soul in peace, thinking that a future with me I would be guaranteed a pension fund.
was 2001 and I was in Rome, May 1 concert. Many young people in the Square and there was talk of a civil war is unknown, one that takes away one thousand workers each year and not Italian, in Italy. At least those are the ones that are declared.
Those that are called.
I did not think then, did not think of my mother. There would never have thought up to the time when I would see, so immediate and decisive. Like all
and no less than anyone else, I always spent between low grades in school, friends, il piacere per le donne e le bevute. Chi potrà mai togliermi i miei momenti, i miei successi e gli insuccessi. Le vacanze, i tanti primi baci e l'abbraccio di chi ti accetta soprattutto per i mille difetti.
Le chiamano morti bianche, come i teli nei quali si è avvolti dentro una bara che non serve a niente, per quelli che riescono a finirci dentro. Le lacrime dei parenti, qualche articolo di giornale, il politico che parla e per me, niente.
Finirono le scuole e come previsto, nessuna voglia di Università o studi privati, volevo i soldi subito, volevo il lavoro quello vero, che nobilita. Come mio padre e mio nonno. Un posto da operaio oggi, carriera sicura nell'azienda del paese domani. Operaio specializzato ora e capo fabbrica domani. So I would have paid the installments for the new car, bought what I wanted, brought in my beautiful pizzeria without making them pay.
Every year, deaths at work is a hymn to the social change that does not happen. Temporary workers, bricklayers, farmers, soldiers, piece workers, port, assholes, blacks, Italians ... all inside an invisible bubble that escapes even the most precarious form of legal proceedings. The perpetual indignation that has never produced anything except words of comfort for families. The other victims of this. In
factory are well received by the group, there are other young people like me but I'm the "new" to teach the secrets, I recommend the old, joke, tease me for my stories women, the drunkenness ... I like the new game, the price of the last arrived.
They know who I am son who was my grandfather, I know that you can trust.
leaders will see little, historians founders have had to sell to a foreign company, they say we are part of a multinational. I do not know, the salary comes, I just need my little things, 8 hours, overtime in black. The effort is borne at the end of the month.
Sometimes unions are saying that we do not normally want control, but I was advised to leave them alone, not to listen. In the end I did not realize what they're saying.
Italy is a country located in central Europe. The right to work is part of the Constitution and the work must (should) be sure. Must (should) be well paid but the rate of wage growth is inversely proportional to the growth of cost of living. Our leaders encourage us to go abroad. Perhaps it is a normal request is too much.
shifts are challenging and heavy, and eight hours strordinari. They are, I tell myself. For your holidays in Greece for the wheels of the machine. It takes just fucking.
Then that night lightning. I saw the worried face of the oldest in the room where there were two gentlemen, one blast, flames. The instinct to run away, go away, her legs trembling. Then I saw fathers to help them jump in without thinking, to get them out. I have not thought about it, I am thrown in and then nothing.
I am dead you're alive, do you not have noticed.
So at my funeral I do not want to participate. I'll let you all neighbors to each other.
comforted that I'm not here, your tears, of my many gaps left.
If you want to know heaven there is only a few idiotic asshole.
let to the words of the usual self-righteous, and my memory for you. Dead

nearly 879 thousand, calendar year 2010. AD, of course, yours.

shit from head to

Can You Get High On Rivotril

comforted

I forgot again that you die all the time. Every day a little at a time. Day and on nights and gradually falling off every last hair.
I forgot to say my prayers every day and put the soul in peace, thinking that a future with me I would be guaranteed a pension fund.
was 2001 and I was in Rome, May 1 concert. Many young people in the Square and there was talk of a civil war is unknown, one that takes away one thousand workers each year and not Italian, in Italy. At least those are the ones that are declared.
Those that are called.
I did not think then, did not think of my mother. There would never have thought up to the time when I would see, so immediate and decisive. Like all
and no less than anyone else, I always spent between low grades in school, friends, il piacere per le donne e le bevute. Chi potrà mai togliermi i miei momenti, i miei successi e gli insuccessi. Le vacanze, i tanti primi baci e l'abbraccio di chi ti accetta soprattutto per i mille difetti.
Le chiamano morti bianche, come i teli nei quali si è avvolti dentro una bara che non serve a niente, per quelli che riescono a finirci dentro. Le lacrime dei parenti, qualche articolo di giornale, il politico che parla e per me, niente.
Finirono le scuole e come previsto, nessuna voglia di Università o studi privati, volevo i soldi subito, volevo il lavoro quello vero, che nobilita. Come mio padre e mio nonno. Un posto da operaio oggi, carriera sicura nell'azienda del paese domani. Operaio specializzato ora e capo fabbrica domani. So I would have paid the installments for the new car, bought what I wanted, brought in my beautiful pizzeria without making them pay.
Every year, deaths at work is a hymn to the social change that does not happen. Temporary workers, bricklayers, farmers, soldiers, piece workers, port, assholes, blacks, Italians ... all inside an invisible bubble that escapes even the most precarious form of legal proceedings. The perpetual indignation that has never produced anything except words of comfort for families. The other victims of this. In
factory are well received by the group, there are other young people like me but I'm the "new" to teach the secrets, I recommend the old, joke, tease me for my stories women, the drunkenness ... I like the new game, the price of the last arrived.
They know who I am son who was my grandfather, I know that you can trust.
leaders will see little, historians founders have had to sell to a foreign company, they say we are part of a multinational. I do not know, the salary comes, I just need my little things, 8 hours, overtime in black. The effort is borne at the end of the month.
Sometimes unions are saying that we do not normally want control, but I was advised to leave them alone, not to listen. In the end I did not realize what they're saying.
Italy is a country located in central Europe. The right to work is part of the Constitution and the work must (should) be sure. Must (should) be well paid but the rate of wage growth is inversely proportional to the growth of cost of living. Our leaders encourage us to go abroad. Perhaps it is a normal request is too much.
shifts are challenging and heavy, and eight hours strordinari. They are, I tell myself. For your holidays in Greece for the wheels of the machine. It takes just fucking.
Then that night lightning. I saw the worried face of the oldest in the room where there were two gentlemen, one blast, flames. The instinct to run away, go away, her legs trembling. Then I saw fathers to help them jump in without thinking, to get them out. I have not thought about it, I am thrown in and then nothing.
I am dead you're alive, do you not have noticed.
So at my funeral I do not want to participate. I'll let you all neighbors to each other.
comforted that I'm not here, your tears, of my many gaps left.
If you want to know heaven there is only a few idiotic asshole.
let to the words of the usual self-righteous, and my memory for you. Dead

nearly 879 thousand, calendar year 2010. AD, of course, yours.

shit from head to

Metal Gear Msx Eng Rom

Maybe it's the other way I write

... if the order was made by several ellipses and if anything had an end with these dots, con la continua ricerca di un qualcosa che non c'è, ma che tu rincorri solo per svegliarti al mattino, per vedere le farfalle volare...
...giro e incontro angoli nascosti che non hanno un senso, un come o un dove. Appena incontro lo specchio le chiedo cosa vuole, appena tocco cibo riprendo le mie forse. Ora tutto ha puntini di sospensione, potrei anche sbagliarmi, ma niente è al punto di cottura se non i miei anni migliori.
Dovrei iniziare a copiare cose fatte da altri o trovare progetti conclusi, non da me. Si pur iniziare da qualcosa...
...forse inseguendo tratti di musiche conosciuti, ecco cosa farò. Inseguo fantasmi musicali ai quali applicare parole a caso, nate dai nostri mille discorsi. Non importa se l'aria la paghi a peso or if the shoes have holes in them, the heating is part begins. Burns. They burn the dots in their being suspended. Maybe going to find the music guide, perhaps changing the sidewalk, maybe ...
... maybe I should take drugs, drink more and more, make me grow a beard and shouting in his face what I think. Take me to crazy, crazy visionary. Resume of the kiosk project dispersed into thin air, resume ideas, draw the contours. Paint the living room. Now go out and I start to whistle, if I want to sing ...

shit from head to

Metal Gear Msx Eng Rom

Maybe it's the other way I write

... if the order was made by several ellipses and if anything had an end with these dots, con la continua ricerca di un qualcosa che non c'è, ma che tu rincorri solo per svegliarti al mattino, per vedere le farfalle volare...
...giro e incontro angoli nascosti che non hanno un senso, un come o un dove. Appena incontro lo specchio le chiedo cosa vuole, appena tocco cibo riprendo le mie forse. Ora tutto ha puntini di sospensione, potrei anche sbagliarmi, ma niente è al punto di cottura se non i miei anni migliori.
Dovrei iniziare a copiare cose fatte da altri o trovare progetti conclusi, non da me. Si pur iniziare da qualcosa...
...forse inseguendo tratti di musiche conosciuti, ecco cosa farò. Inseguo fantasmi musicali ai quali applicare parole a caso, nate dai nostri mille discorsi. Non importa se l'aria la paghi a peso or if the shoes have holes in them, the heating is part begins. Burns. They burn the dots in their being suspended. Maybe going to find the music guide, perhaps changing the sidewalk, maybe ...
... maybe I should take drugs, drink more and more, make me grow a beard and shouting in his face what I think. Take me to crazy, crazy visionary. Resume of the kiosk project dispersed into thin air, resume ideas, draw the contours. Paint the living room. Now go out and I start to whistle, if I want to sing ...

shit from head to