Blue

Mirrors.
Reflections of earth.
Mirrors.
Projected to the sky.
Floating in a chilling apathy.

Sky.
What’s this thing called sky?
Maybe a cage of diamonds built to keep us soothed away.
Waves.
Calm water waves getting longer and weaker.
As I look through the looking glass, I see a shimmering world of lights.
I’m high. I’m one of those lights.
But compared to them, I’m just nothing.
I watch them from this comfortable distance, cut in two.
There’s nothing ahead. There’s nothing to hope.
Who am I? Who am I? Who am I? Who am I? Who am I? Who am I?
Who am I? Who am I? Who am I?
Who am I? Who am I? Who am I?
Who am I? Who am I? Who am I?
Everything is cold as ice.
Ice. A barrier from outer space.
A way to keep an order.
Order.
What’s that? An illusion.
Soul’s seat.
As I see multicolor lights making their way into my head, I know that’s too late. The train is gone.
A light that’s pale like a crescent moon. Dark as a full moon.
Opposites collide in warm white waves.
I don’t belong to that place.
I want silence.
I want to hear nothing but the sound of artificial waves.
I want to see just the blue gloomy light of the pool.
I want to see the sky. The stars.
I want to find the boy I used to know.
I want to know where he’s hidden.
A girl laughs, she’s lost in her father’s embrace. They have fun.
And I?
Two fault lines.
Fault.
Desire to touch one’s lips.
Desire to be.
Water. Something nice.
A nice weightless feeling. A cold surface. Mother’s womb. A warm refuge. The origin of life. Where blood melts into a uniform shade.
I don’t want to be this version of myself no more.
Mirrors.
I don’t like what I see. This fat body, reflection of a stillness of feelings.
Nothing really matters now.
Even love is not important now.
Love. A mirror. A protection. Lust. Desire of being wild far away. To break the boundaries. To be bad.
Flame.
Swim pig!
Swim!
Forget yourself.

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Informazioni su erikberti

It's frankly hard to describe myself in this little space, but I'll try to do my best: I'm 29, graduated in fashion and design. I love to write tales and novels and to study languages... I love words, their meaning, their importance, the deepest emotions that they can create when they are close to each other, the stories one can tell with words. Yes, stories. I'm obsessed by the infinite number of stories that can be told. This is my personal diary, I will post poetries, writings and streams of consciousness, that will be probably gathered together in a collection. Thank you for following my dream!

Pubblicato il 27/10/2013 su Other. Aggiungi ai preferiti il collegamento . Lascia un commento.

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