Rivisitazione tradotta del primo post dell'anno, Martina Cerbiatta.
Marty Fawn was stupid and beautiful, as an industrial’s and a model’s daughter.
She was my marvelous fresh meat and I took her to the slaughter
Last spring, when it still made sense to remember the girls' names, we took long walks.
Sixteen years old, she gave me foolish love, the luxuriance of deviance and negative thought.
I was the animal and the prodigy and sometimes
the spurts that the hair of the hasty girls caramelize
It was easy to delight her, while she was trembling,
between long and liquid kisses, feeling the cock against her panties
In the lattice of easy appearances in which she was immobilized
to be Somewhere else, she cultivated her sincere desire.
Her accomplished beauty condemned her to false situations
and she was being desired always (and only) in her emancipated version.
As in all the “Fawn” females, in her was no fluency of being
The marvelous fool suffered his pain stubbornly, she couldn’t seeing,
Marty wrote to me disturbed letters I filled myself with pints and I had no desire to answer,
For me, she doesn’t exist anymore, but I know I’m still in her stomach like a cancer.