Mi sono dimenticato di dimenticarti.

Mi sono dimenticato di dimenticarti.

Non c’è Natale dove non ci sono diritti.
Alle volte inizia con un silenzio
pieno di troppe cose da dire,
silenzi da dare /
silenzi da non tradire.
Altre volte inizia con un libro in mano,
un po’ per gioco.
Altre volte sei su un letto e pensi.
Il piacere di stare con sè stessi,
senza rima, senza sosta,
un po’ di pace.
Nel freddo e nella nebbia
si confondono i mood e gli orizzonti,
hai paura di non arrivare mai a nulla, nulla di reale.
La foga di evadere dorme un po’,
che senso ha evadere/
se l’evaso non sei tu?

Temo l’arrivo di un tempo in cui rimpiangeremo questi tempi.

I remembered my New Orleans days, living on two five-cent candy bars a day for weeks at a time in order to have leisure to write. But starvation, unfortunately, didn’t improve art. It only hindered it. A man’s soul was rooted in his stomach. A man could write much better after eating a porterhouse steak and drinking a pint of whiskey than he could ever write after eating a nickel candy bar. The myth of the starving artist was a hoax. – Charles Bukowski

Tesoro, da quando non ci sei più tu vedo tutto #000.

there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I'm too tough for him, I say, stay in there, I'm not going to let anybody see you. there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke and the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerks never know that he's in there. there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I'm too tough for him, I say, stay down, do you want to mess me up? you want to screw up the works? you want to blow my book sales in Europe? there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I'm too clever, I only let him out at night sometimes when everybody's asleep. I say, I know that you're there, so don't be sad. then I put him back, but he's singing a little in there, I haven't quite let him die and we sleep together like that with our secret pact and it's nice enough to make a man weep, but I don't weep, do you?
It can’t Renzi all the time…

Scusaci Giuseppe, ci siamo confusi.
