Sports Bars Phoenix Vikings

an asshole ... Love letter

Se la morte

fosse un vivere quieto,
un bel lasciarsi andare,
un'acqua purissima e delicata
o deliberazione di un ventre,
io mi sarei già uccisa.
Ma poichè la morte è muraglia,
dolore, ostinazione violenta,
io magicamente resisto.
Che tu mi copra di insulti,
di pedate, di baci, di abbandoni,
che tu mi lasci e poi ritorni
senza un perchè
o senza variare di senso
nel largo delle mie ginocchia,
a me non importa

perchè tu mi fai vivere,
perchè mi ripari da quel gorgo
di inaudita dolcezza,
da quel miele tumefatto

e impreciso
che è la morte di ogni poeta

Alda Merini

Questa volta scrivere potrebbe portare inhumane disasters. The black plague, ever deeper, you've inflicted is taking me on tiptoe to madness.
And I try to balance the stomach, not to think about how insignificant I appear now our relationship.
It 's a forced resignation. I wanted to fight, but you have beaten a retreat, did you give up without pulling the white flag. I've abandoned without a goodbye. And this
stifling indifference, alienation bearable only leading the study.
Death, with you, came several times. But maybe this time, to die is you.
disappear from the substratum of my psyche, you lose in size. And 'the pin enough of your disrespect to pierce and deflate that plastic doll it was you.
's over and I really vanto.Anche know if new crises that will come to miss you, I also know that now the strength to overcome hatred born of and fostered by the disgusting bitter you left me in the mouth.
This time I have the weapons to fight your demon and, guess what, it was you who beat me. A

never
Mari