nes Banned

the capture (always by frankie): I am alone, hunted like a dog and I don't move, if I bark I die... I grit my teeth and stay prone while the sound of anguish rises and hurts me: thin as a stiletto it pierces my heart and I bleed tears that scream like megaphones that don't stop and violate the darkness that blinds me, a soft darkness, like a curtain of jellyfish brushing my face like a flutter of wings... I perceive hostile glances from animals hungry for terror that watch me and from the mists of memories they return and gnaw at my soul in a sadistic game and I become a mouse in a pack of cats... Naked, like a beetle at the tip of a fork, I wait but the executioner is in no hurry and in the meantime sharpens the axe, on the anguish that holds me tight like a mantis jealous of its meal, that freezes my sweat into drops of alabaster embedded in my forehead, that insidiously creep inside me, deeply like splinters of irrational paroxysm and there is no law that can govern me because I am losing my mind... Like an obsessed person, I slowly sway my head, side to side, like bears in zoos and in a delirium I feel suffocated... the adrenaline rises in a flash and I widen my jaws in a silent scream, and the anguish suddenly takes a rest because there is death, made of leather, with a whip... I swallow the saliva and savor it... and if this is to be my hour I say: please, after you, Ma'am...

alia: by Frankie Hi NRG: keep your hands off Cain: A voice recently defined justice as "law applied for revenge," and if it’s the people’s justice, it’s God’s, and I whistle from the balcony like it’s a misplay, because this tenor cannot be passed off as the word of the Lord. Period. I twist and make fire and flames if I look around: taking the breath away from a man locked in a cell is just murder that hides its instigator in legality and complicates the crime by surrounding itself with accomplices who pull the trigger while staying silent, whom it guarantees an alibi as victims, forced to kill in self-defense and used as weights on the scales of accusation. But the game, I know, is villainous, and you can rub them for months, your hands remain dirty, like the conscience of those who still support you while you erect gallows as if they were swings and then hang people from them, leaving them dangling like rags hung out to dry, you suffocate them in a room, or inject a substance into their heart, or make it explode by a firing squad.. Flesh on the grill is your true religion, and you seek a black scapegoat, you graze it in a cemetery and then you sacrifice it on an altar for the remission of sins, but you have no memory of him, because he’s just another dead man in history... Keep your hands off Cain: blood calls for blood and you answer its call, you preach justice then plow through crime, a sold referee who decides the fate of another... The tales they tell you since childhood deform you, you delude yourself into being infallible because you make up numbers, but you don’t realize that your opinion is only gathered when it’s convenient at the top. They move your conscience over a chessboard, a white pawn defending a black queen that devours human lives in every direction while you close your eyes and open your mouth like a shark.. You burn vital oxygen for me and for you saying things that don’t hold up even if you stake them, you repeat contradictory formulas always the same since the time of Moses.. Furthermore, you consider the count of eyes, teeth, hands, and feet odd, prison and life sentences are not enough, they do not satisfy you: you would want every damn criminal dead, to point out as an example to avoid... But the delinquent who sees the death penalty as a deterrent has not yet been born, and often it happens to take out an innocent like nothing, and you call this “an accident”? Executioner in a transparent hood lives in anonymity, immune from sin, uncontested lord of your mediocrity, orphan of doubt, head in the sand: victim of your own rage....

"The minivan bosses" you're a genius! Shall we meet up and record a rap album titled that?

Interesting; very much. Il sole dei morenti

I'm sorry, am I being insulted because I didn't touch Metal Gear or because I pointed out that no one has ever mentioned Golden Axe?

One day someone told me: "No matter how many steps back humanity may take, it will always remember where it has been, and this means that, whether for better or for worse, it continues to look ahead." And it's true, it's true that today we are better than yesterday, but it's also true that yesterday was better than today. And it’s also true that there are no longer any mid-seasons.

I don't know.

oh fuck.