Oniricon
Il Signore è il mio padrone, non manco della frusta. Perchè la cinghia mi piace. A Who does not like. It 's funny when you hear it pop back and cut open. More than a cut is deeper than you know. And there is anorexia behind the door. The feelings of the flesh. Maybe, but I do not vomit in the bathroom. And until the UomoCane not take me with you, well, the dryness is not complete. It's all simple and complicated. How to write because others like it. And so we continue to dream. There are places where we played as children, the frustrations and fears. The heads in the drain. And everything fits perfectly. It fixes the blue and red, and the strange symbols. A fat priest distributes the paper. He has photos on the computer, are naked women. E 'pleased. He likes the lips large. Me too. Not a woman. "Now that you have said sorry you have to forgive" the hearing of the priest was a faint hum of the cicadas and deafened. "No" there was no sign of civilization nearby, the gray house had vines. We slept together in a room full of bunk beds. And I had the look of one who went to the slaughterhouse. The bus moved away from everything that I hated but did not want to leave. "You must apologize, because Jesus forgave forever." Everyone thinks that rape can be made only with facts. But no. There is a tragedy to make a cake, but it is quite another thing. It's the little things more terrible than or more important. And in that day I lost my purity, rather I had had it. "I forgive you" with eyes full of people who do not understand why. And all the beasts howled because they felt the injustice. And for you there is only the lake of fire. Outside it was raining like never before. And I turned to the animal sixth sense for those who feel their eyes on their shoulders. Blond and beautiful I looked through the glass. All wet. After he was gone. It was not entered. I did not know anything about him. "To me you are perfect." And the debris rolling down there in a side of huge buildings and a purple sky. And the bars on the windows. The walls that scream like never before. Because when something breaks down they too bleed. You can not find the youth in the other. And it is very different from childhood. Perhaps a day take a rifle and end of the bullshit. Because nothing matters so much, collapses. "What?". People walk in single file and are like ants. Do not distinguish dreams from reality. Also I am. A dwarf casts a shadow over sharp and hard wood which is carved.
The shadow of the pendulum clock stopped sharp glass on the table. On it was a white object, flat and swollen.
"... I just say that I prefer a good purpose rather than one that purpose well. You good purposes, such as"
"This morning I received a letter"
"A letter?"
"Yes, it's on the table"
And the letter was, on the glass table, out of the shadows pendulum clock. It was dirty and crumpled to the ground. No sender, no addressee. He opened with a knife, with the tremulous caution that is dedicated to the things that you do not know. The blade gleamed in the pale light that shone through the curtains, and that when he thought he bought the house gave an angelic touch. He did not understand why the letter was dirty ground, especially on the corners. It reminded him of the games was a child in the land, and notebooks that were soiled as a result. The envelope was slightly swollen, as if it contained something else besides a letter. When pulled slowly past the letter a few words written by hand in blue. On the glass table fell with a crash an object. Something that came out of the letter. A leaf, it seemed. Perhaps some romance of an old lover. No, that myopia was betrayed. It was an ear, cut off the base. An ear of a dog. Triangular, not too often, fairly long and brown. He slid so, light on the table. It always goes forward when you try to hold back the horror. So the letter was opened. Among the words in blue there was an obvious spot, a red strip, which ran diagonally across the sheet. The position of the ear. It said something like this: "The Lord is my whip. I like it. I love to feel the flesh that is torn and understanding it brings. Do not you like to understand? I become barren of sentiment, and lose weight like never before. But I hate throwing up in the bathroom. And I UomoCane brings with it, and a little 'me. 2612203042567290 "
" What does it say? "
hard to take your eyes." Mh? "
" What is written, "he said, trying to dominate the white powder that had spread a little 'everywhere.
" ravings "
"that ear dog is very real though," said inhaling deeply.
"We are writing nonsense, ramblings, and a number mh, sixteen-digit"
"Sixteen digits?"
"Sixteen digits. I do not know, maybe it's something like T9, a riddle "
" I nine? "
" The method of fast writing with the phone "
" Ah, "took the paper and examined. "It's not something that has to do with the phone. It 's a phone number". Among
trembling hands clutching the handset off-white, a little 'old. He was one of those phones with the round dial, and the numbers inside little circles. It takes a lot of time to call.
"Hello?"
"Hello" a voice inhuman. Deep. Hostile.
"Who are you?"
"You know"
"Who are you?"
"The alpha and omega. The first and last. The beginning and the end"
"does not mean anything"
"It means everything, but"
"No. Who are you?"
"Is it possible that I can not remember?"
"Where are you? There is so much silence"
"A tower. The lugo childhood, you know where "
The line went dead.
The car proceeded along the coast. The rocks were sharp, heavy and serious. The sea is flung noisily about them, and it was not calm at all. The However, there was sun. On the horizon loomed a tall as the sky. ominous gray. un'ingrossatura With the apex, and a long pole with no flag. The windows were broken and the place into disuse for some time. It was a lighthouse. As a child we went to pull the rocks off the cliff. And boy was there to fuck. There was not a blade of grass, only dirt for hundreds of meters. As a child he was always very dirty, We rolled for hours with friends. Who knows what had happened. "You become fully aware of!" someone shouted. Well maybe it was true, maybe it had become. But he did not remember a single face, even painful. But remember a few days before the holidays. And speaking of clothes and wine. And laugh inappropriately. It was what he liked.
parked the car under the lighthouse. He got out and stood up on the shore of the cliff overlooking the sea. It would be so easy to skip. And to kill a thing. To the ear of a dog. He waited for some memories came back to mind. But childhood was gone. Or so it seemed. At the foot of the lighthouse there was a hatch of iron. It seemed as if he had been buried in the earthy wilderness for years, and recently reopened. Approached. He opened it. The stood a small iron ladder that led into the darkness. The staircase was narrow, and then had to get back. The handrails were full of cobwebs transparent, many spiders inside the small body and long legs. It was his only phobia. The wanted to scream but no sound came not from the mouth. Now at the end of the scale and noticed a pale light that came from an unknown source. In front of him a figure of him.
"Who are you?" churches.
"You know who they are" still the inhuman voice.
"Who are you?"
"Is it possible that I can not remember?"
"I do not understand what am I doing here"
"It 's the tower. The place of childhood. You know where you are"
"I know nothing"
The figure turned his back. Before he could express the horror of what he was seeing a roar did the first jump and then fall to the ground. He had a knee completely crushed. And the earth was dark clotted into tiny droplets. The figure approached, and was partially illuminated by the light. It was a large man, tall. But the head was not human. He had a canine head. "And I UomoCane brings with it, and a little 'me' he thought. Those brown eyes and no expression was not comparable to anything existing.
"Is it possible that you can not remember?" repeated the UomoCane with that inhuman voice.
"I do not remember anything"
The UomoCane pointed to the side with one hand Right from its long snout. He traveled with the look and noticed that he was missing an ear.
"Can not you remember what you've done?" he repeated, pointing to the ear.
"I have not done anything. ... I do not remember"
A roar.
A roar made me wake up. And 'the twenty-sixth of April. It 'the one last night. I only heard a deafening noise. My husband sleeps on the other side of the bed. The child is there, I think. I heard I heard a noise. So deafening. I looked out the window and a strong wind I messed her long blonde hair. There are people. The street. And it still does not appear to be ants. They look at all the air and perhaps expect a decision, one way. No, I am naïve. They watch a giant black cloud and, for some chlometri away. And the crows fly away. And the girl is there. I just want to tighten it. It 'wakes up and does not understand it myself on the other hand. I hold her breast, because I love her so much. Why is mine. Born from the blood that gushed out of me is screaming. And sometimes the things you love so much to want to destroy them. I wish I would suffocate with a pillow and I would struggle to hear that quiet sleep tonight. I do not know what will play again in the meadow there. And maybe go to the lighthouse, with other children. Because there is a cloud that moves, and I do not know what to do. People are still, are ghosts walking and always have been. When I married my husband I thought it was cute. I like to keep things in order. The house is perfectly clean. My other son was already out of the house. He likes a lot of the girls. I like to keep in order for my husband. He does not notice. Sometimes comes home and tries to fuck. I do not go, I ride the other side. She masturbates, I think. Or go with some bitch. Yes, I thought it was cute. It is almost more than the twenty-sixth of April. My husband is in the bathroom for an hour. He took the shotgun of the closet and shot himself in the mouth. He found the little girl. I have close to me. He had debts, I think. He always said: "Maybe one day I'll take the gun and end the bullshit." He did. The ceiling drips pieces of skull. I have a little 'I washed the clothes yesterday. I sit with the child watching the sunset nuclear. Our dog running around in the garden. After he lost his right ear in a fight with other dogs is not the same. Perhaps maybe I have to go away from here.
