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Toronto

Stuck on the other side of the horizon,
strolling down the lights of Spadina,
till the water’s edge greets me with its phosphorescence,
and the air of yesterday smells like pinewood.
A scent of something nice, lost in the fog.

Then,
amid the highest glass,
I find myself thinking what would’ve been like,
to be a son of the other side,
a child of the land of the never-ending fields.
Will I ever change?

All the time that sun shines and the warmth of its rays crosses my windows,
I feel like I’m still there,
standing on the platforms of Union Station,
dreaming of a brilliant future,
a simple smile from a cute face,
the revolution I am looking for.

Again, again, I climb on a tree to see the harbour,
save me from a prison of bombing,
take me on a plane,
14.000 miles from home,
the first hope in my heart,
like a plane on Lake Ontario.

Düsseldorf

I don’t know what you see,
a frightened child,
a smiling sunflower ready to be caught?
I see the arms I used to love,
and I’m just reading out your words,
wishing to have another chance to be kissed again.

And I just wish a change of season,
looking through maroon falling leaves,
leaving traces on the ground,
leaving paths you can follow.
You told me to be strong,
but all I got is a voice.

Spectators of the turning of the tables,
standing still in the bruising poignant neon bedrooms,
violence all around us,
a gate getting closed by my grandmother,
her voice, her wartime stories,
fear, fascists bursting into her house.

Then I see a whore, in the daylight,
a sad story on her shoulder,
haggling with a young man about her price.
He drives away.
I walk by to avoid the sadness that I feel in my heart.
A dog is barking in the distance.

Then my secret love,
a passion dried out,
the world enclosed in my dark secret place,
how we laughed on that summer day,
how we kissed each other in the sunlight,
the sensation of living something somehow unique.

Then the hustling of the city,
the tower standing out against the blue of the sky,
a silver sphere where I would have liked to go,
curved houses erected on the canal,
a cold, freezing wind is howling,
while the sun sets and I walk away.

The heart troubles in the night,
I remember how much I longed for a sign,
and now I can just wonder who I am,
who we are,
caught in the whistle.
But in the darkness I recognize that something’s missing.

While I wait for a change,
as illusions fade away as the tether between us,
and I grow stronger and well-aware that you weren’t the one for me,
I listen to my father grumbling, crying out his own unhappiness.
His misfortune, the disgrace to have had a gay son,
the tragedy that he lives everyday.

I know that the wounds on my skin are healing,
as I write this lines the murmuring is just a shadow
and all I need is a warm embrace.
All I need are two arms protecting me from the world,
while I dance in my own tears,
and my feet freeze.

A distant world,
a blue sphere dancing in the blackness,
an immortal, unbreakable silence,
the prince and the patrol by my side,
looking for something to revive the magic,
in the valley of forbidden sounds.

The city pulses in its hectic life,
a million stories collide for a moment,
I see people talking,
and I’d like to know everything about them,
I see lips producing words,
and I’d like to kiss them all.

Then I see the lips that I liked to kiss,
then I remember our bodies touching,
how you confessed me your secrets,
then your smiles.
White blinding light,
the warmth I was looking for.

First Lady

A story that we see everyday,
A voice telling stories that will soon be forgotten.
Teams falling down, a result.
He speaks, I hear jingles.
Meanwhile a rusty singer spreads her wings,
trying to let the dust down.

Am I that dazed?

Watching the world from a distance,
waiting to be hit.
Is this the right way of living?
Always waiting for tomorrow,
for what comes next.
The world is an isolated cocoon,
where we feel immortal.

There’s no meaning to this artificial suffering,
this pain crafted through the centuries,
rules that don’t exist.
An inevitable crumbling, the illusion, the ruin.
In the littleness of my existence,
lost in space, caged in the middle of the galaxies, floating in the cosmic velvet.
I want to watch it the perfect aerial view.

Looking for a meaning to it all,
to my life, to my lust, to my love, locked somewhere.
Because it’s love that rules the world.
The smile of perfection on your face, the tenderness,
the end of every fear.
To get lost in something that’s just too much.
The wave. And then all I’d like to do is crying,
while you smile to me, while you mend my wounded skin.

My father runs the prison, beats in the cloudy evening.

Love is dead, I don’t know who I am,

the journey home looks never-ending,

white lights in the gray thin air,

violins tearing my empty heart apart.

Alone in the meaningful absence of another human being, cracking up in all these feelings,

building up the Wall, high, impenetrable, frightful.

Little glimpses of light are absorbed by steel, time, and the lies I tell myself.

Day 3

A red ‘E’ hanging on the wall, 

the heat suffocates me. 

My eyes are cascading,

words that are a whirlwind, a mess, an undistinguished murmur. 

How can they speak about that all the time? How can they just talk like this? 

I feel on the outside, I don’t want to be like them.

They don’t want to meet me, 

that smile could be my safety, but I will never be brave enough to open my mouth. 

A red beard. A vanishing face, bloddy lips. 

I don’t want to get out of this safe refuge.

Life’s biting. 

I want to touch their skin, I want to be their head, I want the peace and joy and quietness in their mind. 

The strength of their means, no uncertainties.

Neons, my eyelids are heavy. 

Smile for me, without knowing that I’m watching you, 

your big arms shine as a safe harbor. 

I’m ashamed, wrong, the fag you hate. 

The judgement of the world is smashing my sensations. 

Drunk Night

Under the lights, aside, apart from the mess.
I see unnamed meaning’s faces, talking and moaning,
erasing their protections as the clock ticks on.
Faces, smarter people.
A sweetness forbidden.

I watch them from a distance,
too weak to make a move,
too stunned to feel something.
He touches her,
an interests. Beats.

I want to cry so bad,
let me cry, I want my tears back.
I can’t stand the difference of time,
standing under the dimming light of the moon.
There’s no one around me, I’m alone.

No time to understand what’s going on, no time to think.
The river flows unrelentingly,
between the Valleys of the Meadows of Heaven,
the peak of the Mountain still shines.
I’m in the hole, waiting for the time.

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