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Franchezza chiusa.
"Closed honesty."
Because I want you to understand (nothing).

It would be easier to sleep at night if it rained.
White noise an enabling thing, euphemism for daybreak.
(Even though it's naturally dark in my room anyway.)

I'm hungry, and, primarily by distraction, I'm happy.
I've always been a light year away, I think. And when
push comes to shove, from grey gory chiaroscuro bleeds.
But I'll protect you from my arrogance with distance,

You could say it was the dice roll or something, but
mostly, I built this pedestal with my own bare hands.
It's fun to dramatize my rootlessness sometimes, yet
unnerving; galling like De Chirico—a lamplit horizon.
(Being one of a kind is strength and disconnection.)

Hope that my willful blindness hasn't blinded you,
hope that compassion won't quit being my retainer,
tenere a mente la mente, le mani dei musicisti,
e rendere qualcosa di egoistico più brillante.


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