Brazilian Wax After Cesarean

"Whatever that means home. Any house that means home."

In the closed boxes with miles of files of people who had something to say outside the home and is now out of my head and sing out of sync. Out of the clouds October and eight in the evening and what ever saran all my mail that is not the answer. Dust off your iPod songs hidden in the deserts and alcohol with the money that it costs too much I hope to cenarci-eat-sleep.
You're not at home. Mia.
Whatever that means home.
Any home that means home.
Mia.
I'm not old enough to run and does not penetrate the lungs with breath spacious and ends on the sternum that I find it evil and furnished home, but of course you are invited to dance in, but me but me, except when you call and do not answer. When it's raining outside and I Wallpaper eardrums unleashing the usual charm and shawl.
then what to do with feelings of anaphylactic shock me?
graduate then, in everything.
the movies Back to the Future project and if only it were October 27, 1985 we will not even know which side of seal loose everywhere. Plural nous and have never been so bad.
and find the guts to tell me that with all my bad-me paranoia sfonderà the liver. I you and I and plurals to fuck, but just to grammaticare incorrect sentences.
When we took the plane then exploded in applause of the Italians and we wept because it was over but the stock of wine mignon that I had bought in double figures. Encrypted messages which even ask him.
E 'was a bloodbath and even then you will always remember.
When I speak you speak to me that the other can not write, illiterate as they are. The days that you marked on the calendar for your mestu are the days when I go out.
No Age.
No way.
Norway.



Matthew barro

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"The Hard Times of Mattia Barro"

September and October is still not go out over the front door locked and you I ask for directions to uscirtene running from the burning building without passing through the street, but with a full belly .
The toilets on strike while I am working at the heart of hours that the rocket opens and we can spend the evening sitting outside, inside standoci.
The leaves do not fall even if the blow off and leave me to see you sneak from the ceiling. I rented a kidney and now returning in time.
The Hard Times of Mattia Barro.
We talk for hours about things I've ever seen and we're at it we also talk about all the loves you've had. Is desired. But not assessed.
Sidewalks of a September that dragged on like a cancer in the balance. And an October that does not seem the least able to maintain the promises promises maniacally. Reports of seasons that have left us at ease, as we were excited to chew on violent events that led us into war.
There is hatred everywhere. When
have fallen tears of cardboard, I am prepared milk and tea while you are sleeping, but on the other side of town, if Milan want and you can even call it that. A house does not have anything left and I no excuse No excuse for no scalper trying to contact you and say "it's not the end of the world." Sai.
What then for me it is.
At a certain time we are just me and the lamp Ikea and intrusions that night my temples do not like blue and dark days in the temples. Neither you. There is nothing left to eat except the pounds of anxiety on the sternum that I go fan hunger.
E 'come dawn, we all return
in Piedmont.


Mattia Barro