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The Last Grip

A hug from a distance,
a warmness that lasts a minute,
the cold of winter surrounding our naked bodies.
You turn on the other side,
and I follow the strange presence of a body,
a warm human body next to mine.
Your kisses are full of heaven,
but inside I burn of emptiness,
while your smile was everything I wanted to see,
on that cold, dark night.
Just for one little time, just on that moment.
And I promise you that I won’t try it anymore,
I won’t dream of me and you anymore,
I will just turn away from your story.
My destiny is far away,
the long-needed separation is behind the corner,
the challenge.
I’m starving of being good at something,
the accent I can’t understand,
the automatic response of my brain.
A future, from where I will be able to watch that single night,
smile at it, write to you,
and find that same old fragile tension.
The last hopes that hold me here,
thin ropes about to stretch and break,
letting me free to fly in the warmer air of the path,
all dreams funnel on iron wings,
in the sun, in the brilliance I can see under palm trees,
other people, other fears,
and in dreams, I’m sure I will still hold your warm hands,
my last rope,
my last invisible grip.

Yellow Light

Still believing to the sentences we shared,
I can’t give up this dream of mine.
I find myself dreaming of you,
while I cut the rope that keeps your boat anchored to my port.
I will greet your shadow sailing to a silver destiny,
I will wave my hand to say goodbye to the hope you were to me.

Please go away fast,
but don’t forget about me.
I won’t forget about you, and what we’ve shared under the two moons.
And all I wish is still to wake up in your arms,
the place where I would have liked to stop.
There inside it’s so warm and cozy.

There, inside your arms, a secret heaven that’s mine no more.
I’ve seen all the colors in your eyes,
the shape of your shadow, blinding in the heat of the summer night.
I will keep this yellow light on for you,
so in case you’ll come back, you’ll find your way home.
Shine, yellow light. Spread what’s left to hope.

The Blank Page

A novel’s first words,

a long-lasting research.

Vibrations in the thick, humid air.
A voice rises up, white and floating, in the artificial light,
while the blue bar takes with itself these irreplaceable moments.
A guitar chord, G major,
a gospel choir, looking for a spirituality that doesn’t exists,
while observing the darkness in the abyss, where I will fall, never ending.
Friends that come and go, like shadows blinded by summer,
empty words with no meaning,
dead souls’ stunned faces.
Sand under my shoes, the artist’s delirium.
An agitation without ending,
the trembling feeling watching the blank page.

Long-distance relationships,
beauty comes from across the screen,
without touching, day after day.
A spar, a prison with a window in the corner.
You and me.
The perfect circle, torn apart by life, by snow,
the street that goes on pitiless till the end of times,
society that destroys itself,
humans, that repeat their mistakes once again, the terror, blood.
Stab him! Stab him and bathe your hands in his blood!
Do it!
He loves you more than ever, he’ll die for you, he wants to do it.
Drown him. Tie him up and drown him alive, choke your feeling.
The perfect day, dreams enclosed in a moment,
seconds that won’t never return,
time’s inevitability, existence’s shortness.
I’m already in the coffin waiting for the judgement,
the shadow of the End looms over.
A breath.

Prickly people, do you get enraged for a missed celebration?
In the meantime all the rest burns out! And you attack, you like to be mean, you like to be bitter.
To suffer like this for the artifice of human life, for the artifice of immortality.
Run, run, explode, connect yourself, quick! Fast!
FAST!
Elegy of slowness.
Elegy of solitude.
Elegy of the blue of sky, of starlight, pieces of infinite that drill the dark veil,
the fire cracking in the dead of the night.
Elegy of madness. Elegy of freakiness! Be freak! What’s the meaning to normality?
I will always be a shadow, a resenting soul.
I will always look for a security that doesn’t belong to me, I will lose myself in the dreams of a life.
Bomb me with your words!
Save me with a cuddle.
I observe the kindness of the injustice,
the malice laughter on the faces of people don’t understand its valor,
human nature turning against itself,
the artificial system, the ice age.
A gigantic wave in the nordic sea.
The love that remains, that make mountains crumble down,
without love, without life, cities that worship flesh,
cathedrals made of rotten human corpses, ants that exult in their stink
Dream, a majestic dream,
the path that leads to light, through the trees.
The delicate touch of your hand,
you, your face surrounded by the Sun,
me, delighted by the beauty of your Being,
I finally know that my sentiment is legitimated.
Here, at the end of all things, I know that I can love like everyone else,
even if you cried on my shoulder, even if my loving makes sad,
even if the peak becomes steep,
holding the hand of the Star I know that there’s no gender for this feeling.
Lay with me on the humid ground, let’s get dirty before the ending of the day,
kiss me while you cry tears of joy,
while we own something that the Others won’t never understand.
“I exist”. I’ve fought for this.
Canada, Germany, Holland, Iceland, Sweden, a midsummer night’s dream,
the people I love.
A flight over hopes that crush against life’s glass wall.
The cry of who doesn’t have anything,
the empty bowl of the boy that begs me for a coin, me, turning and walking by,
system’s artificial perfection, swallowing us in its fiction,
your will to trap happiness, nature’s purity.
I float high, towards the enormous blue sky, towards the cosmos, the absence of gravity,
don’t you want to slow down for a while? Understanding our reality, what’s the meaning in shooting against me, jail me, cry on me, throw out your repulsion, cry, take back, rape, kill, hit with stones, choke, squeeze?
Above me, Past Myth’s weight remains, words that won’t ever get old,
dreamers, wonderful crazy people!
Being isolated isn’t easy, no one understands the obsession about that freedom that everyone is certain to have.
They sell their souls, dead hearts given up to immortality, shot through a tunnel that seems without an exit.
I wait patiently for the day when I’ll be able to smile,
when I’ll be able to stop folding paper, to count to five, to listen to your threats, to face the Demon that dwells in my head.
Higher, between the evening lights, glacier’s glare, twilight’s red shade. Higher, in the deadly silence of the clouds, I become poorer and smaller, hiding in nimbus’ basalt,
observing Gaya’s tendons stretch amid sky’s carousel,
hugging your profile, wishing to touch you once again,
melting in a freedom that the others, locked on the ground, can’t even imagine.

6 o’clock

The Road, like a snake, crawls in the valley covered up by the thick morning sun.

The Sun, like a gentle eye in the sky, hides himself in the tricky grey stripes.

People, cars, lives, the fog on sewed fields, the days are growing warmer.

Blond hair.
Black eyes.
A room, where to hide. A trick to let the feelings stand off.

The monster. The knife I used to hurt you, your hopes bleeding on my indifference.

Dawn, sunsets, faces, the music.
How?

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