Desolate. Disheartened. I wrap up myself with jazzy things but nothing is worth. Bitch-Red sadomasochistic shoes to high myself to your levels. I don’t draw the attention. You don’t cover me with any attention. In the vicious circle of yourself. I send messages into the void. They come back with no answer. Nor a slight sign of understanding. State of emotional dissociation. Emotional (anal) dissociation. I want you but you’re not there. I hide myself in the hollow. A dump or a nuthouse would be satisfying. I’d raise the standards, 5 Stars Model alike. Would I bring up again anything else? I watch myself, reflected mirror into nothing. I look for, but i can't find myself, like I’m playing hide and seek with this hairy burden I’m dragging along. I'm ball and chain of myself. Trapped, I scream asking for help. But no voice is coming out of my mouth, or you just don’t rise up the volume to listen to me.
Foreword written by Mauro Santucci.
Illustrations by Cristian Girotto.
Background pictures by Me.
Please notice that all this materials are © Copyrighted 2008 by the authors and must not be used without permission.
