Genital Warts Mouth Hurt

I always wondered how it would travel the world in the belly of a whale: being swallowed by a giant whale - a humpback whale, for example - and sail the seas to make playing the pirate. must be the desire to start playing some trick the brain under pressure, and mixes reality and fantasy as an alchemist of other, distant times.

and dream of being the terror of the seven seas, I walk barefoot on the grass freshly cut, a living oxymoron. on the way the itching wakes ends accustomed to comfortable rubber soles, attracting hungry primitive instincts. it's like a face wild themselves emerging from nowhere, a subliminal message imprinted genes corrupted by home comforts.

lying motionless, feeling the sun burn the skin and turn it off the air before a fire broke out. a water spray catches me by surprise, sassy, \u200b\u200brefreshing for a moment my lucid blurred. the birch trees shook like a rattle in the wind chimes spring, summer is a slow symphony.

droplets of water adorning the bottle that rests under the umbrella. makes me fear rises as enormous and austere, but its pendant distracted somehow reassures me. I am convinced for a moment to feel the scent of the sea, the scent of suntan lotion, sand, salt and golden skin whispering summer every time you breathe.

abandoned flip-flops on top of each other, lay the towel with a few ripples here and there and raised the hem, the empty chairs in front of the small plastic table unused. I sit on the swing and red rocking chair, thinking that here is changing a po'tutto.

I think of evenings spent eating pebbles of porphyry and asphalt constantly changing person, jumping from place to place to look for some new, imagination of a child wrongly beat extinct. I think of dancing and laughter that met the sadistic and exaggerated comments, made without malice to forget the day we left behind.

I think about leaving. I guess the skyscrapers, and as a giant concrete and glass looking down upon us, ready to be demolished by the flash cameras of tourists overzealous and greedy memories. being dragged by a river of people on the night full of neon signs in search of some district naive to rest tired legs and chatting with some stranger. meter races while engrossed in searching for a match between the name of the stop and gifts from a point on the map information. navigate the streets in search of a more unusual refreshment berth for the hungry mouths and eager for exotic flavors, or at least quite foreign to the taste common to seem sophisticated.

take the bandage to cover a black eye, a black bandana with skulls embroidered becomes a precious necklace, the plastic sword is stuck in the waistband of his baggy pants and worn. load some food on the boat, a fishing net, a picture not to feel nostalgia, hoping that something in the way he want me to be hungry enough to eat.

while leaving for this trip I realized that improvised the desire for adventure continues to play with irreverent fancy childhood fantasies. the sun still burn my milky skin, showing no respect, while lying on a towel choppy.

I really wonder how it would travel the world in the belly of a whale ...

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not remember much about that day. just a lot of noise, his hands still over his ears while the body writhed screaming. I remember the tears come down and soak the shoes. I do not remember the color of your hair, your smell in the air condensed around.

shook his head from side to side. I repeated that everything was going the right way. I looked at the statues and buildings that populated the place alive and vociava chaotic. I tried to reassure me that the time required courage and the pain would take him off the living him, carrying on his shoulders.

remember inattention and misunderstanding, take their separate ways. I remember the train leaving while I sat on the marble bench in the station. a lighted cigarette and the sun shone all morning that the open space. the boy next to me was playing alone with a small red Ferrari, the paint peeling off. Zigzagged on the gray tile design porphyry trivial.

thought I had already lived for life made me jump and look ahead. I thought I had released everything from appearance that blurred. I thought I would see the color of the flowers in all its subtle nuances and subtle.

not remember the day I was never good with dates. must be winter because the cold enveloped everything. the green coat was not enough to retain the heat and chills took over. I order one of the drawers of memory and the euphoria of new adventure re-established balance between the thoughts.

the child was still absorbed in his imagination was strange onomatopoeic puffs with parted lips. I looked preoccupied trying to figure out what he was combining his childhood innocence.

suddenly slammed his hands on the ground, his face sullen. something must have gone wrong in his little world. the car was upside down. must be something important. we crossed eyes: eyes mirrored the violent and fiery as irises changed color. I held the cigarette between his fingers red and frost had gone. the smell of smoke rushing sull'olfatto with a subtle malice. the shadows we preparing for war tribal drawing pictures on our faces.

looking for the meaning of all because I wanted to understand everything. I read between the lines of the story because I found the plot boring in our lives. I argued with the craziest speakers to claim the thrill of contention.

not remember much that day, if not the chaos that swirled in my every word, every expression on my face, in all my certainty.

we looked into the evening, green in green reflection. we were so alike that we looked like strangers to each other. I remember the yellow porphyry; hunger attack the stomach with a tenacious grip, as if he had not eaten for months. I remember my baby cry, cry like I had never heard before. I remember the toy dropped as it never existed. looked shabby and tired. the wounds of years had abbruttito so much, that will hardly recognize the brilliance he had at birth.

"are you sad?" - I asked politely. the crying stopped instantly cryptic. hesitated to answer.

"no, I'm not" - he told me.

"why the tears then? Are alone?"

"no, not '

looked at me long. looked at me trying not to explode in anger against me.

"I cry because you're sad" - he set out at the end a silence broken only by the trains that were running on rails rusty.

"Want to play?" - It was dark.

was the last thing I remember. I never responded. I lit another cigarette. another, while I was waiting for something to happen. but there were only people who came and went, and trains that roared and flashed colorful graffiti done with spray cans. was a whole new world, though still the same.

the child was gone. I had not even greeted. I got up stretching the bones creaked under the weight of my body, sore muscles fatigue is reactivated.

I walked towards the city, with a slow pace. the lights on the windows made it seem so many fireflies small buildings, as if I were lying in a meadow in the summer. I stopped a moment, my breath froze on every breath, illuminated by the light of sodium lamps.

"why not?" - I have said before heading off again, while holding his hand in his pocket a small red car with the paint peeling off.

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the and days are taking over the time of life. minutes engulf themselves with a voracious animal, the ticking of the wristwatch chasing me through the corridors of the university.

my cigarette is burning slowly, hanging on to her lips parted, consuming as incense in church. smoke rises up struggling in the warm evening. I can see the entire valley from where they are: the green of the trees thins out towards the bottom, turning into the uterus of rivers of asphalt and concrete gray. it is like watching a frame of a film classic and treated to restore color and brightness.

the library is emptying out because of hungry stomachs. the hinges are closed quickly and backpacks disappear from the tables whitish. hourglasses on the flat screens are the latest effort of the computer left on all day, then pitch black.

think about life before and life after, so I thought of nothing. is the moment when you understand the meaning of everything before you abandon yourself to the daily rhythm, again and again. the moment of truth which is the common denominator of each day and that takes you rolled up the blankets and the intense scent of clean, ringing in the dream when the eyes dart left and right without control.

people who come and go, without stopping. items that reassure you when you do not know what to do because they sound familiar and remind you of childhood. Faded lettering on the diaries of school as we were witnessing. the skinned knees on the asphalt courtyard: it was enough to blow, they said. that bad! the scent of freshly baked pie. the arguments for who should play the winged horse. your scent. your taste.

cars queued on the hill are still standing, are small and distant and remind me of nineteenth-century paintings, a sort of pointillisme . is a painting in which they are immersed without drowning. is a moment of perfection that disappears the moment when I close my eyes to try to fix it on the retina. when I try, again, is already gone.

put out the cigarette consumption down to the filter yellowed, the noise that accompanies my last day, and go down. between concrete and asphalt.

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