... it all started with a sound. While I was sleeping I started to feel it. It was as though the paper rubbed on wool. A sizzle. E 'party feet. Half asleep I thought of when a child, I ate the potatoes in foil, the foil that made noise when handled awkwardly to reach the stuffing. I have not noticed. I started to feel a bit 'tingling in the fingers ... it seemed they were awakened by the night. I continued to ignore me and I turned over in blankets. Heat. The heat is what really started to attract my attention. I opened my eyes and found myself staring at the ceiling. How pitiful was his eyes ... I removed the covers to see what was going on. There was nothing. I thought of old age and its quirks, and I went back under the covers. Riassopito. Again the noise, now stronger, now different. It was extended, perhaps taking advantage of my insane calm. All legs were immersed in ice ... cold, heavy. Knew his coward that he had just cut my every possible escape route. Anxiety. A sudden disease, so suddenly? The phone was too far away, oblivious to everything there on the desk, waiting to convey the voice of someone who knows who ... Motionless in my bed. How many times I wanted to do it, remain relaxed as the rain trying to sink this ridiculous world ... but in the end I always go out and deal with my brave umbrella. What can you think in such moments? That was never old enough to die ... But in the end the weather has had and thrown away. The ice was melting a bit 'but I came back the forces. I felt a strange discomfort in the wrists, my heart was scared first, and was accelerating more and more to try to help me out ... not that I have to say them out well. My chest was suddenly filled with something. A hot, dense liquid, I thought the wax ... but how could it have to end there? No way ... the wax immediately became heavy as stone ... then again the noise, came out from inside ... I felt it through my bones. I understand now that the hog would not be satisfied, wanted more, wanted to climb higher and higher. How to blame the other hand ... Who would not want to do it. Small finger went up my back, doing the rounds, passing under the arms, then climbing to the clavicles in on ... to climb the neck to reach the ears. What a pleasure to finally be able to hear distinctly, that damn noise. Cheeky, I said something, whispering ... I'll eat you. I thought it would do great harm because I did not see the sharp teeth around. I did not have any instinct that pushed me to flee. Perhaps he had injected the poison in me ... maybe I'd poison propionate alone in all these years to think about stupid things sense sense ... maybe the poison was waiting for something foolish nonsense. Always a ridiculous prey. I started to feel something slimy and smooth back from the navel, as a language ... left no traces of his passage, to me it seemed to touch his skin is torn ... yet there was nothing. When the feeling came to lick his chin ... I really understood what that noise ... a sizzle. The thought of it triggered something inside me, and he understood that I had learned. I heard a chuckle, an evil grin and submissive. The blood began to boil, my body a blur ... smoke. I could just raise your back and scream, because I kept even from his wrists. My skin had become intolerable, hot. I watched as reddening, and from what it was a red flower is a yellow bloom that is covered with many petals of a red orange. There were flames. I was finally burning ... The fire I was tearing into small pieces, but then he became aware of my good taste of course, began to devour. I had the feeling that the brush soaked lava depict stories about me .. or maybe you wrote. I heard them curse me. Felt the little voices that came from that mouth of hell breaking up what they touched. The pain was so intense, that this word now means little to me. I was not thinking anything, in fact I was so good ... I just wanted to burn. Burn. The smell of me I do not even disgusted; the smell of thoughts that eventually freed, the frustrations that finally disappeared. Ash. A few days later someone would open the windows, after the tears, after the void left by my useless body, and I would have flown away. A popular air, being breathed by people who hated me and then come out from the tears of those who loved me. Someone would have smoked, maybe my friends. Burn. All I wanted.
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