@tibianchini
1 year ago
Public
Thunder locked
I don't change our deal in any change.
I don't treat this job with sadness.
Extract the life of any lock
And I spread thunder like a good slob.
Of the guts, of the bowels, transformed
Heart; I bring the extrusion to the showcase
From my plots, and before the brain shoots him,
I distract the treatment of my entangled sorrows.
And by bringing out so many feelings,
I surrender myself to loneliness and hatred.
And I go into a trance, and through my theater
A tribal monster comes to slay my torments.
I unlock the lock that at the door brings me to the streets
And through the platters and entrances
In your tribute I give myself to fuck and fuck
Of the trivial owners, mischievous and half-naked
And then, tropegus, in my intrepid treading,
I bring back sadness and trouble.
And between you and me, I get distracted.
And trace a trace of the traffic.
Three-by-four,
In the rags of my broken Saint-Tropez.
And, toward the door, I walk across the sidewalk
And I walk into the house, and I end my theater.
And my hands, trembling and atrocious,
They always betray me and bring your portrait.
And by betraying your dreams, I, in a final act,
Return to deal, return to you, return to us.