My father was a tomato
But you are innocent when you dream
But Madness comes up and traps you in. Discreet, she convinces you with a sudden unrhetorical impulse.
You acquaitance that underground, that Jungian landscape, and get naked, tackling it, facing off.
If you are lucky you leave that place as NGO free will leaves a Third World Country and backs to home.
I wonder if I robbed some memories, there is no witness nor piece of evidence to expose; as a desperate and fainted hearted E.G. Robinson murdering the woman in the window.
A deserted scream for truth is not a good policy , a wasteland desperation runs as doves playing hoaxes of pethrarcan love; glossolalia as a whimsical choice to choose when language fails and hope is not.
Dreams just to hold on, as the wood in which rest the innocence of the memories that I robbed.
* Salinger suffered from glossolalia
* Tesla was in love with a dove
* The film Leolo also deals with madness, the sentence " Because I dream I am not mad" comes from that film as well as the soundtrack by Tom Waits.