Fashion does it Better

12-11-15

The Ball at the End of this World

Spades, you do like spades, you like them late, you carry on. Birds, and broken cages, and lonely songs, and avenues. Bubbles on the rack, inside hairy heads full of fairy snails. Human beings are lovelier with eyes closed, mouthes closed, do not touch. You do like spades when others worship hearts, and mellow breasts, and funky farts, and Kierkegaard. I am fool enough, to see some lights, to watch them shine, and make my eyes regret the first minute they were allowed to stay open. And this being said, I still believe, I still... [Lire la suite]
Posté par petitou à 06:07 PM - - Commentaires [0] - Permalien [#]
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09-11-15

Frizzante

Wanted some Lambrusco, flows of it, rivers. Wanted some and went away to get it, buy it, steal it if needed. Went to the first supermarket, lovely as it is, when nobody's around because it's too early. A woman in uniform said there is no bottle left till the afternoon, then went away. Bye, lovely face, lovely words, lovely grin. Took another bus, another tramway, saw this world, face to face, saw the disaster and the cherry-bone babes. Control me, take my purse, take my love away and sell it on e-bay. Lambrusco was... [Lire la suite]
Posté par petitou à 04:29 PM - - Commentaires [0] - Permalien [#]
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30-10-15

Thank you for the Chiclets

The phone was too heavy so we didn't dare to reply, didn't care to answer, no matter who rings the bell. We threw the plug away and let the beast have its love story with the couch, then we drank a cup of gasoline and went back to work. The world has never been a place, it is a daily nightmare and we have to walk and shut up, everything left is our ability to see, to watch, to catch. Details are what drives us when all lights are red, when the moon shines black, when the pavement's wet. We babble and we bubble, chum and... [Lire la suite]
Posté par petitou à 04:25 PM - - Commentaires [0] - Permalien [#]
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18-10-15

Cuckooning

We're just a rule, just a mirror, we're your blitz, we eat your skins, your tatoos and your latest smile. We're all, out of a sudden nothing, we blame all these guys that aren't us, that aren't free, that do not kiss each you and each me. We lie a lot, and die on mondays, we try some mornings, when we're unhappy to play. We keep our cockroaches, we eat them fried, we'll open a restaurant where all is dry, and painful, and delights will be for another blind eye. Only, if you dare or feel misunderstood, you'll be the only one. The... [Lire la suite]
Posté par petitou à 01:34 AM - - Commentaires [0] - Permalien [#]
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17-10-15

Everywhen

Some of you, you or others, are you among these other crowds or walking all alone, say either it hurts or it aches. Are you a part of these hearts, or an uknown knight, living for tasty blood, living for red flows teasing your wooden tongue. Are you hungry or just fed up, big belly beauties are hanging around. Are displaying visuals eyes are unused to. Champagne, good words, good love gone bad at the time words keep drooling out of souls that haven't asked for such a trip to sands, to snakes, to coughing cars on highway... [Lire la suite]
Posté par petitou à 11:56 PM - - Commentaires [0] - Permalien [#]
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15-10-15

Playgoats, they don't milk this way

We know, we know, we know, we know. Our ears aren't blind if ears can have an eye for a single minute. All voices yelling, all the stories the tories are telling, all the guts on the ground and the loud whispers of those who didn't want to go here, the here, the unknown here, the elsewhere. All the blind clothes walking like ghosts to an unknown heaven, to a destiny we've been kicked out from. A lovely world where all smiles are great, where all grins are granted. Then we came, dirty, filthy as the door of hell itself, ashamed... [Lire la suite]
Posté par petitou à 11:48 PM - - Commentaires [0] - Permalien [#]
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09-10-15

Nobody will ever know it (but there is no empty path)

I saw a white bar, one red round mouth and they all told me to step away, I didn't move, I was a petrified angel saying hello to green firelights, I said thanks for its color, for the bright message, for the unexpected sun, for all the ones I left behind. Hey babes, I'll smoke inside your lungs. But it's not up to me, I am not alone, there is another soul looking at me, and my breakfast will smell better than your entire life. Mert should rather eat Marcus, meat for cheap is such a threat, at six in the morning, at least. We... [Lire la suite]
Posté par petitou à 10:37 PM - - Commentaires [0] - Permalien [#]
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09-10-15

Open that other door

Babies like salad and they never turn back, unlike this guy we'll foil, we'll check his back door and, then, turn our heads, looking at another grey sea, looking at another bright moon fucking the sun, hard, yelling the yellow one is just another fool looking for cheap sensations. We do not care, we do not swear, we are free souls lost in a desert ocean. Fulfil it, pour water on our dirty dreams, leak, drip, slow storms that make no noise around are among the favorites of ours, do, then. Pour. Don't you see the open hands, lurking... [Lire la suite]
Posté par petitou à 09:09 PM - - Commentaires [0] - Permalien [#]
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09-10-15

Helicopter Tango-Mango Girly Babies

  Years are like drops, some acid ones, some bitter ones, some sweeter little ones, but all of them, they make your hair curlier than the minute before. They are water, they are illusions made liquid, they are jelly, they are love turned down. Rain is impossible, clouds are illusive foams having fun above while we take a waltz for a granted trip. We fly, we flow, we die in a row, we keep on, we land and consider mud just as another joke, and we go again, we run too fast and far from the initial pun. There is, there was, past... [Lire la suite]
Posté par petitou à 08:03 PM - - Commentaires [0] - Permalien [#]
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07-10-15

Zuzanning Stars

The grass looked greener on the other side, the twin river. Another island we're afraid of, another name we can't whisper, another couple letters we're not able to stutter. And we'll keep on babbling, and we'll keep on swinging, singing the songs that cross our minds, our roasted brains keep on liking what they bring to us, daily, endlessly. The wheel may turn, we may be out of tune, out of path, out of project. Who, who's the only who that gets all the love and gifts for himself, or herself, or itself, to indulge with, to... [Lire la suite]
Posté par petitou à 12:16 AM - - Commentaires [0] - Permalien [#]
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