mi sono persa dentro un desiderio troppo grande.
attraverso la strada e non mi accorgo che il semaforo è rosso.
prima o poi sarà troppo tardi.
mi sono persa.
vorrei stendermi lì, davanti a quella vetrina chiusa che mi guarda ottusa ogni mattina, sul wet pavement, close your eyes and stop thinking this cold makes me want to let me go.
but what right I have, I think to myself?
Mussa Khan arrived in Europe in the back of a truck ice cream.
"sopprimiamoli, even small children are Gypsies!"
there is no heat nor love, nor law anywhere.
I can not even breathe in the values \u200b\u200bthat I have grown.
I can not stop believing.
values \u200b\u200bserve to provide support, limits, rules, things warm and reassuring, are not crazy.
pretend that everything is always good, but I do not think, after all.
"women talk too much, the right to withdraw them word" ungrammatical arrogantly claim the administrator of a facebook group.
I lost in naive irresponsible, forty years.
I missed thinking about that a policeman could not kill a nigga with a teser
I missed saying that a farmer would never have bought toxic waste by the mafia polluting the earth and his own thoughts
I lost belief my husband was my husband.
shared values \u200b\u200band goals.
learn together to make the wedding.
to learn to shield against everything that's out there.
but what right have I to think of myself?
Africa has insurmountable problems, problems unimaginable in our spoiled white head - once advised people not to force the women to their pretty little head into their biggest problems of today are too polite to say it and use cultural differences - I can only wait, be quiet, not show, back straight and playing penelope - the same soup.
no one before had ever told me "you're sick," as if it were a colpa.
è questo il matrimonio?
il matrimonio è la colpa?
non basta avere un uomo accanto perchè la vita ti sorrida.
intanto la mia amica rom fuori dal bar muore di freddo e io non so se vuole abiti per coprirsi o per venderli e nemmeno mi importa perchè non ne ho da regalare
io adesso non sono forte.
non sono niente.
grido silenziosamente davanti a un telefono muto, strepito, pretendo, vorrei farmi del male per spostare il dolore dal cuore al sangue.
“la vita con te è un inferno”
la vita con me è un hell.
but I have to live there, you can go, I do not: how to survive in hell?
"you write with soul"
perhaps the soul can be useful to escape hell.
I'm lost in a too great desire, to grow together, and with a perfect pass from perfectible.
I'm lost and I do not know where to look andarmi.
dignity, a friend tells me severe.
dignity.
right.
when you still have the dignity will save you, keeps you in the organs who would run out, the stomach acid splashing, the brain bursts.
invention, dignity.
I lost my dignity.
and when you have more you lie there in front of that window is closed you look stupid every morning on the wet pavement, close your eyes and stop thinking the cold makes you want to let go.
attraverso la strada e non mi accorgo che il semaforo è rosso.
prima o poi sarà troppo tardi.
mi sono persa.
vorrei stendermi lì, davanti a quella vetrina chiusa che mi guarda ottusa ogni mattina, sul wet pavement, close your eyes and stop thinking this cold makes me want to let me go.
but what right I have, I think to myself?
Mussa Khan arrived in Europe in the back of a truck ice cream.
"sopprimiamoli, even small children are Gypsies!"
there is no heat nor love, nor law anywhere.
I can not even breathe in the values \u200b\u200bthat I have grown.
I can not stop believing.
values \u200b\u200bserve to provide support, limits, rules, things warm and reassuring, are not crazy.
pretend that everything is always good, but I do not think, after all.
"women talk too much, the right to withdraw them word" ungrammatical arrogantly claim the administrator of a facebook group.
I lost in naive irresponsible, forty years.
I missed thinking about that a policeman could not kill a nigga with a teser
I missed saying that a farmer would never have bought toxic waste by the mafia polluting the earth and his own thoughts
I lost belief my husband was my husband.
shared values \u200b\u200band goals.
learn together to make the wedding.
to learn to shield against everything that's out there.
but what right have I to think of myself?
Africa has insurmountable problems, problems unimaginable in our spoiled white head - once advised people not to force the women to their pretty little head into their biggest problems of today are too polite to say it and use cultural differences - I can only wait, be quiet, not show, back straight and playing penelope - the same soup.
no one before had ever told me "you're sick," as if it were a colpa.
è questo il matrimonio?
il matrimonio è la colpa?
non basta avere un uomo accanto perchè la vita ti sorrida.
intanto la mia amica rom fuori dal bar muore di freddo e io non so se vuole abiti per coprirsi o per venderli e nemmeno mi importa perchè non ne ho da regalare
io adesso non sono forte.
non sono niente.
grido silenziosamente davanti a un telefono muto, strepito, pretendo, vorrei farmi del male per spostare il dolore dal cuore al sangue.
“la vita con te è un inferno”
la vita con me è un hell.
but I have to live there, you can go, I do not: how to survive in hell?
"you write with soul"
perhaps the soul can be useful to escape hell.
I'm lost in a too great desire, to grow together, and with a perfect pass from perfectible.
I'm lost and I do not know where to look andarmi.
dignity, a friend tells me severe.
dignity.
right.
when you still have the dignity will save you, keeps you in the organs who would run out, the stomach acid splashing, the brain bursts.
invention, dignity.
I lost my dignity.
and when you have more you lie there in front of that window is closed you look stupid every morning on the wet pavement, close your eyes and stop thinking the cold makes you want to let go.
[if I were certainly a man finds a woman willing to open myself unconditionally the door, listening to my anger against the world, in questioning before an obstacle, but probably, if I were a man, I do not notice it - I do not envy the pain, neither for men nor for women]
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