Mercoledì 6 Lug 2011, 8:34

They live in my garden. Not the garden of my dreams, but that of my thoughts. Overgrown… With what I do not know. Sometimes I prune, but I mostly go there to feed. I feed not myself, just the two wild dogs. Most usually the one that bites my hand.
I thought I was the sweetest thing I had tasted, until I met you.
Now I want to destroy myself and start again.