English Version
gothique et romantique

A piece of you and me

Publié le 4 Mar 2014

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Sung in German or English perhaps in Italian, I do not know any more. The black opera is stretched listlessly on the keyboard of the organ, played by the phantoms of our memories, I do not remember more. Remain the unfinished text of skinned words of fear of being marked. Able to open doors which one will not be able to close again. Like the fear, the love, the friendship. I see you terrorized almost curled up. Paralysed with the idea of having to launch you. To imagine what will be the end of this wild text. That unrelentingly the melody brings closer towards this wall where we are prostrate. I do not know, I do not know any more. Reason the notes without life of a black opera exposing our sufferings. I do not know, I do not know any more. If the melody finds in its repetition the reasons of our castration. This sidereal vacuum wrapping us towards a fatal outcome. Vibrate in me an animal start. To escape to us. To Run, flee. To safeguard us. To Leap, not to die. To exist. In your eyes, I want it. Do you wish It? I do not know, I do not know any more. The black opera undulates, curves, on the white ones and the black ones of the keyboard. Cherished by the clone of a human being placed there to play the utilities. There were so many reasons of us to go from there. However, we remained. To listen to beat our hearts. Choked by this fear of leaving us. We are used finding in the routine the force to support us. Is this the beginning of the love for always? I do not know, I do not know any more. There is this unhappiness evaporating black opera. This form of despair which passes on us like a rolling mill. Leaving on the ground short periods of you. Short periods of me. Some were stuck, attracted each other. You said magnetized. As if that could satisfy you. I subscribe to this good idea. There will remain always fusional part of us. Almost eternal? I do not know, I do not know any more. The black opera stopped. There is this heavy silence like a call. This vacuum which aspires to us. I am not afraid, I am not afraid any more. Holding in hand a piece of you and me.

le sang de la nuit, la naissance de l'ange, decouvrez le dernier roman de steffan urell

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