Addicted.

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We should stop seeing each other.
We should stop playing with our demons.
I inhale you. I can feel your hands touching me from a distance. The untamed desire sets me on fire. It burns and I cannot stop. Your smirk excites me. Your hands fill me and I breath deeply, exhaling hard and coming. You come closer to my lips without touching me. It’s exasperating. Half of my body is wet and the other half is wizened. I’m losing control and I am lifting my chin towards you. You’re half smiling again passionately, moving your head around. I am still powerless, licking my lip needy. You’re playing with my desire. You push yourself inside me and my voice trembles. I am losing it. I grab your neck and squeeze you hard as you keep pushing and insisting on me with that smirk of satisfaction.
We should stop.
You let go of me easily and I am relieved.
Your demons won’t leave me alone while your hands are playing with the line between my back and my front. You run gently between my legs and hardly getting inside I find myself coming unexpectedly.
You run your body on me, throwing words into my mouth, without letting me taste you.
We should stop seeing each other.
It’s becoming addictive.
I want you.
Your mind is heroine. Your perfume is cocaine. Your lips… oh those lips!
We should stop.
I wish I wanted it to stop.
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Craving for Love.

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Let’s be honest people! You love Love! Everyone adores a little unhappy love story with a happy ending. We complain, oh yes, we could die complaining about how Love makes our lives miserable, painful or (at some point) amazingly interesting. At the end of the road it doesn’t matter. When your route is over, at that moment when you have to point yourself into a different direction just because your Love had expired, there it is where you will realize that all you can do is fall in Love again. Yes, yes my dear Human, that is what you crave; Love. Even if you don’t want to admit it, you desire drama and epic storytelling even if you put at risk your weakened heart. 
     I never thought I would make such a confession. Actually, I never believed all those cruel heart-breakers who anticipated Love differently than I did. Perhaps they saw things more rationally. I couldn’t. Would you? Is it Love rational? 
     I would be sinning if I’d reject my own theories so I won’t. I will speak both logically and sentimentally. On the one hand, as you may have seen, people cannot live without drama and day-by-day struggling. On the other hand, the universe cannot exist without the romantic constellations. So there it is the explanation. Humans cannot survive in a world where Love comes without struggling and the universe is unable to create something of such greatness easily. The knot is done. All generations are pulled into this labyrinth, craving for Love. Roll the dice, get a player, build some houses, own some places, roll the dice again and take some credit for beginning again. 

Le Jeu du Silence

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2c54e8cc9fb65d8910958ed5325a2580I found out everything about “the game”. A man trapped into his solitude, rambling about meaningless things, the silent noises of an empty court; that should be the image you ought to create in your mind. Perhaps you’re already characterizing him as a crazy person, someone who lost his sense of existence, but here it is where you will be mistaken.
The man wonders whether he should lay there or walk away. Where will he go if he follows the tracks of a poisoning voice ? Nowhere. There is not much thought to that. He will stay and he will continue his senseless speech. The muses of solitude will be his crowd; they must applause at the end, clapping their hands silently.
What about you Human? You are still misunderstanding him. Judging his choice. He is mercilessly speaking loudly so he can be heard by those mute soldiers standing still on the back seats. You don’t understand, do you?
This man knows the purpose of his existence better than you can ever conceive. He knows that solitude, silence, mutation, those are the enemies of the human mind. Nothingness serves the crazy generations, feeding them fear, seducing them into this game of savage surviving. He is not a cave man. He has no physical needs; his only purpose stands on a string, tantalizing itself between sanity and craziness, and he knows that the only way to reach the end of the string alive lies on his dedication to torture the queen of solitude. This wicked game has no ending spell. He chose to begin so he has to play along.