Keyboard of access to my soul, keyboard to cut my emotions off

Conspired to disguise the reality, to darken worlds which appear empty and alone under ominous and livid skies

And alone I wandered through labyrinths of lone galaxies, of planet-less suns, of plant-less planets, or with fossil plants to remember a remote hopeless past

Tracks of civilizations and their cyclic destructions which some day had not  been followed by a new start

And I watched worlds without memory not having myself memory of my emotions, my rises and falls, my loves, my sorrows

And this lion’s mane that was a now extinct swarm of aerials to communicate thoughts and so dominate over innumerable kings of innumerable worlds, it was nothing else than vanity and delirium

Leonine vanity, predator vanity hunter of females hunter of preys fast fast fast and furious I conquered one world after the other

Until one day, a day like any other, a day of blessed horror, I found myself alone with my nearly infinite power, a power that was no more whispering sweet words into my hears, no more talking to me, no more sucking my dick melting myself in a pleasure that only existed in my memory in my dreams

Fearing the love of those who loved me as an attack to my security, filling up my ancient evenings of a nearly immortal one with loves I bought, I stole, self-inflicted in the endless conflict of a continuous defense so thorny that is already an offense

An offense to myself, an offense to my loves: cats, kittens, tigers, grabbed in between my leonine claws vibrating my mane, vibrating of pleasure of commotion and then of horror fear rejection, screams of the people burned alive on the worlds I was conquering exploding my atomic bombs, through tele-transmitted disinformation, with the fury and the disdain of a god

And the very long lasting epic fight to give them back freedom, dark times when the high priests of the religions worshipping me were my very foes because they were enemies of the people, unprepared disappointed desolated people

And the people alone rising the head.

Hiding myself, cruel master going away, who loves disaster, who loves to see everywhere creeping walls with crumbled corners, broken glass windows, plastic sheets howling endlessly flapped by a dry wind, wrinkled scared burnt faces, walking feet, holes in the shoes as eyes leading pieces of aimless families

And I am no more, not here nor there nor anywhere.

Rodolfo de Matteis, on the train Pescara-Venice, 14 of May 2011

Di Segno by Luciano Picchioni