I’ve never been here when it’s raining…it must be magical.
Isn’t it that the air breathes us,
That the light consumes us, that every object takes from us the necessary?
The money buys their rate of exchange from us
The clock winds us stereotypically to its face, in an occult dance
Invoking rains and non-rains for an Earth that abusively and tyrannically possesses us
The wine distils us and takes sips from us, the food digests us in an asymmetrical swinging
And who in the end is left to wash the dishes?… these precarious, curious me..
I watch distracted, from a twisted angle, hostile statues,
Isn’t it that all questions are boomerangs
Aiming for my knee, my neck…?
And this “isn’t it”, doesn’t it watch me upside down in lying mirrors?
Può essere che… l’aria ci respira a noi
la luce ci consuma, ogni oggetto prende da noi, secondo le loro necessita:
Il denaro compra…
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