Texts

Which sun?

Transuniversal fantasies. Blind or deaf? Blossoming inertia uber alles!!! We will never be 16 again, but certainly they will never turn our hearts square-shaped. Never! The substructure of this house is built on tears and sighs. This is a colosseal ceremony of loneliness. Panacea is only the smile of a wounded titan.
Undisclosed recipients

Monetary policies are the contemporary slaughters, they are territorial raptors, desperate skavangers and esurient predators. Too many people. Simply, I can’t. Stop the noise, please… My head is filled with nitropoison frequencies ! The velvet hands of sorrow asked: my way or the highway ?
The golden ice cream

Sound has a heraldic or prophetic function and this is not uncanny, not at all. How I wish the golden ice cream melts on the pyrotechnic eruptions of my heart after midnight. How I wish to block my Purkinje neurons. Pellucida zona is the sweetest trap ever, far beyond all theories and thoughts…
Flaming Clouds

Cursed prayer. This is a digital nostalgia, a rhythmic fall. Today, I ate the chaos. A stubborn cigarette in between sleeping is the triumph of defeated. Electrocuted star splinters making time subservient. There is nothing to remember, there is something to respect.
Magmatism

I really don’t know what is yellow. The aesthetics of silence are omnipotent. Sound is movement, it is time. My eyes are the logarithm of abyss. Being real and volcanic is socially forbidden. The fundamental question is: ‘Blind or deaf’?
Pandemonium Rural

Drunken robots, bleeding diamonds, gummy pearls, conservative people and ordinary or irritating confessions… Do you love you? Most of hearts around us have 2×16 inputs and no outputs. Lift up yourself to insanity. Its the only shield remaining.