Like What?

I like to dance. Stepping out of rhythm and mumbling through the verses. Shaking my hips like crazy and drown myself in that little disguises called enjoyment and happiness. Losing moments and times while whirling around in a perfect circle trying to follow the music's flow. Engulfed in those floating smoke with 2,7 milligrams of nicotine in it, crushing my lungs bit by bit along the infinite, Jumanji-like world.

I like to read. Books always make me crazy. Foucault's Pendulum, American Psycho, Silence of The Lambs, Also Sprach Zarathustra, Protocol of The Elders of Zion, Fight Club, anything. My head soar to the world of the words, pretending to be the main characters. It sounds like fun to be Jacopo Belbo or Patrick Bateman. To be able to kill anybody heartlessly, to be able to make conspiracy so big it could devour the world, it's just amazing.

I like music. There is, and there will always be spaces for music in my brain. Music is like, you could say, the heart of my organ systems. It pumps blood to my entire body. Feeling the notes chasing each others, holding their hands with another notes to make a whole chord. It sends me flying to the furthest galaxy out there.

But what do you like? what do you really like?

What's it that you craved?

Maybe you'll find what you like in this city.

Maybe you'll find what you like on top of that tree.

Maybe you'll find what you like on the way home.

Maybe you'll find what you like in the coldest winter.

Maybe you'll find what you like inside of me.

Because i like what you like and possibly your likeness is just like me.