
Sabrina Campolongo
is a den, study, is the lair of a sorcerer, is the attic or toolshed, ol'armadio where we hid as a child, our breath smell, I get goose bumps on the back just because you close a door between us and the world of adults.
is a secret place, is a gut, is the place of creation, is a place of terrible beauty.

here as I spit in his face, again, with my cheeks shiny paint, I remembered, adored, robbed, flaming, my garbage collection and carefully cataloged, my filth One, you alone thy rod, the tua rabbia, il polso dei tuoi stallieri, tu niente, come la polvere nella quale volevi sprofondarmi.
Io qui ancora a straziare il tuo riposo, a ricordarti che non รจ che un orgasmo gridato sopra l’orrore, la Bellezza
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