Love kills love when it has the fear of losing it.
Love costs a whole heart.
A code to reset the inner network.
Just a date.
Just one place.
Time coordinates.
To cut off an astral beat.
Two that get confused.
A woodworm that gnaws.
Fossa inside the chest.
Toads in the brain.
Lick every layer of dream.
Procedures for not doing the same things.
The need to make a gesture without making the purpose of it understood.
A woodworm that gnaws.
A sea that reaches the heart.
Storms of sentimental outbursts.
I produce poison.
Oh my flower.
Macerated with suspicions.
Oh my flower,
dare to stand under a waterfall of wax.
A mixture of innocence and ardor, twisted on the same branch.


L'amore uccide l'amore quando possiede la paura di perderlo. 
L'amore costa un cuore intero. 
Un codice per resettare la rete interiore. 
Solo una data. 
Solo un luogo. 
Coordinate temporali. 
Per recidere un battito astrale. 
Due che si confondono. 
Un tarlo che rode. 
Fossa dentro al torace. 
Rospi nel cervello. 
Lecca ogni strato di sogno. 
Procedure per non fare le stesse cose. 
La necessità di compiere un gesto senza far capire il fine di tale. 
Un tarlo che rode. 
Un mare che arriva nel cuore. 
Tempeste di sfoghi sentimentali. 
Produco veleno. 
O mio fiore. 
Macerati di sospiri. 
O mio fiore,
ardisci stare sotto una cascata di cera. 
Un misto d'innocenza e ardore, attorcigliati allo stesso ramo. 


At the bottom of the sea the sun never sets. The sun, which seems to go out in the waves, has no place in the ocean depths. LAYA swam fearlessly among the corals and sponges of the seabed, of a dense, blackish blue; a viscous darkness for human eyes, but not for her, who possessed it, controlled it. It wasn't like that on dry land where darkness possessed her, controlled her. It infiltrated her body more and more every day: a tarry poison that penetrated her eyes, nose, mouth and filled her head, polluting her ideas; then he went down to force her breath, to numb her limbs. Although LAYA felt that something was wrong, that it wasn't right, that she had to rebel, she never did. The darkness comforted her, cradled her, clutching her organs, her muscles, her bones that she could no longer move. And she didn't want to move. When the darkness was thicker, his heart, so impregnated, slowed down so much, stuck, that LAYA watched him concentrated, wondering how faintly he could beat before stopping.

In his world it was not like that. In his world, even darkness was his subject.

He swam to the surface; hidden among the rocks she looked at the city where she had no place she could call her own, where all affection was a stranger. He watched the sunset color the horizon pink and lilac. He watched the sea sparkle with gold and wondered what could be so precious there, in the dry, for which it was worth facing so many humiliations, so many failures, so many losses. He watched his tail flicker under the surface of the water which gradually became an increasingly intense crimson: the princess, the symbol of a proud people, the leader of a valiant army, swam in those red, violent waters. There she was not placid, meek or compliant, there she was not herself, there she was free from herself.

She plunged back into the inflamed waters, swimming energetically towards the bottom, where she was alive and light and strong, where she didn't need or want to hide. He spotted a scorpionfish camouflaged among the rocks: he pounced on it and scrubbed it unceremoniously with his sharp teeth. The flesh tearing deliciously, the brittle bone shattering under her jaws gave her a thrill of satisfaction. She felt no pity for that fish, as she was sure no one felt for her.

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