The "Ramplón" observes you searching for desire. He bites his mouth when you taste your favourite icecream and never knows why he loves you so much. Sometimes, not many, he hinds his thinkings. He watches his hair. Bittes his lower lip. Soon his good intentions run away from his mind.
The "Ramplón" is back.
On other ocasions he changes the natural order of things just to obtain some benefit. Messes everything. He fools all other human minds just to allow him to stand out . He lies when necessary and rides over the fog with his scythe really sharp.
The ramplon has you targeted.
In other ocasions he may drink if required, He´s the one to put the lights off in all the small or big time pubs. He is the queen of fun when you are not there. You should have been. When you are, it ain´t no longer necessary to reach closing time, nor dance drunk at the bar of that pub of which you only rememberg the loud gaudy red lights. You make a bit of a clown.
The ramplón is taking his place.
At times you start to notice no one is waiting for you when you arrive at home. No one says hello when you enter work. No one takes in mind your brightest ideas, nor mention any of your little achievements. Passionately love your wife and achieve the promotions you expected from the boss. Observe that he no longers bit his lip in your presence. You notice how he gives you a slightly despising sight, how he shuts up when you are around. You hardly understand.
The Ramplón made his work.
In the end you only remember the white coat diagnosys: paranoia. Paranoia is your lover from now one. She is the one to dance with you in your hard sleepless nights. You are inside the nursing house. Make your mind up. They have told you the ramplón doesn´t exist. You think it´s impossible. He screw you up. You and me we know he does exist. You are only a mad person and I only live inside your disordered head.
The Ramplón is in your brain.
You take custard. Your favourite dish. You take long waks next to the depressive girl. From time to time she sighs and you calm her down. You wrap your memories in thin spiderweb. You bit your lower lip when they get you healed. You watch you hair when you get out of the mad house.
Congratulations: you´ve been healed.
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