Chess poem to the king of the city Political Machine 
Sauro happened that Monday afternoon to take me to get the goal, and later in his car while I sit by the radio ... "Disco Inferno", very old piece , was already a whole program, as we walked towards Rocca Brancaleone seemed to be on the set of a science fiction film. I could not see but shadows and not a human being: I was in a town of machines, robots, a city without a soul, I took a strange anguish, Sauro and I were the only living beings in the city, the traffic was considerable, but I could not see a human being. arrive at the Centre and discovered with horror that lacks most of the opening twenty minutes, Sauro tells me try to see if you do a favor and anticipate it. The Raffaella gave us negative to the bitter end: we must wait. I began to feel sick, cold feet and took me up towards the head "effect of hemlock," life seemed fly away, often wondered what time it was obviously not the time and never ran, it looked like a trip gone wrong, rather than by total paranoia, I was walking with her legs apart for not stepping on the crosses of St. Andrew that I saw on the ground, under at my feet, I also thought that I would remain forever in the city of automatons, for eternity. I was getting worse and I went to "watering" a big cedar tree and tried to make a positive thought: ten minutes this process Ser.T. would open and so I would have stuck to me absurd travel. I'll be back next Sauro and look at his brand-new shoes, mine were all untrimmed. I felt squeezed by giant hands, and looked terrified stagger Sauro I smiled, blissfully smoking. He says: "What do you white." I bow to the ground, I wanted to scream but I was taken to the CIM, and then still resist. When there is more than five minutes: I have years of "down" but this was not the usual withdrawal symptoms. Maybe it was a crisis ... In the end open, the first, the neon me back to reality, to life, throw down the glass of elixir sweet, loving. I take the gift bag with all the paraphernalia of pills and controcazzi to sleep and wake up and so on. Date back to the red Fiat Multipla, but the city is not yet in place. They were still all machines, or at least to me so seemed. So I said: "Ridiamogli soul to 'the Byzantine city is decaying." Everything starts as before, the music returns, life as well. I've still got things to this city but I was so upset ... I do not remember what the radio will transmit the music listenable. Blast humans. We start to see the city's inhabitants. Gift a bowl of methane Sauro and say, "Go to hell, you and your great ancestor." May the Lord forgive me for it obscene. In closed, "Farewell to the city of the machines ..."
by a pen Charles G.
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