As I watch your silhouette fading away through the airport’s door,
I stumble down on my knees,
I play music, I cry like a baby because you’re not here with me anymore,
and probably you never will be.
An Atlantic distance between the two of us,
I know, it would make it a challenge.
As spring explodes in the shadow of the castle,
I sit alone in the sun you’ve seen,
as a dog barks and old souls hope for a better future.
Though spring is here for me it’s still September,
flowers bloom only on Arthur’s Seat.
People and stories go by,
and I can only think of you, of your sweet smile,
of your accent while speaking,
of the way you move when you show me things,
of your irresistible shyness.
Then a crossroad,
the drunk night of feelings,
and you already plan your next trip.
I see the green meadows in the sunshade,
I see us, holding hands, walking peacefully
creating the seed of infinite.
A dream, an illusion,
while life leads us astray,
and I still can recall your voice,
that fragile moment before it disappears in the flow.
And then I plan, I try to figure out what could I do,
to be that special man, to be the privileged,
who could kiss you under the castle’s hill.
Drops of pouring rain hitting my forehead,
my sudden comeback,
while fast cars drive by on the fast lane.
A far away friend,
a missed answer,
numbers I don’t remember.
A regret digging in my soul.
Can you hear my call?
This hurt I’m going through,
it’s a glimpse of moonshine through the wet ground.
Snowflakes flying in the twilight,
they’re tapping against my skin,
while a wistful silence reigns
on the white-covered countryside.
The shadows of the night gather in the suburbs,
and I take your side,
I take up the gauntlet,
to find a flickering light through the grimmest darkness.
I won’t bide my time, waiting for the sun to come,
I will shovel in the snow,
till I see the sun rays cutting through,
warming up my weak, pale and thirsty skin.
I am sitting in this bar alone,
as the sun outside waver to rise.
The cappuccino gets cold,
and an old song plays on the radio.
Fog, rain, and the door opening.
A low-vibe day,
I’m snuggling undercover with a thought,
And the thoughts in my head wreck havoc,
while the world spins slowly around,
People Help the People now,
exploding ground in paradise.
And that boy crying for help,
he has learned to swallow the venom,
to keep anger down,
and to fake a scenery of plastic success.
That boy has learned to smile,
to see beauty in a simple drop of rain.
to feel how cold can be a refusal,
to feel how wrong and perfect can be to love.
And the thoughts in my head wreck havoc,
a speech I can’t get,
you, sat on the sofa, snorting snow,
my love sinking in the ocean,
my knife stabbing your back,
the blood from your heart,
a flowing creek of crooked thistles,
and then liberty.
Two other bodies enter the room,
they speak my mother tongue,
I don’t want to hear my mother tongue anymore,
as the bombs explode on the boot,
and children are killed for the sake of the Unknown
the words in my head wreck havoc.
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.
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.
Quietly stealing time,
from a stream of consciousness,
which leads me to an unknown shore,
You and your thoughts,
laughing at the sea,
open the door for a little while,
fear the sound of silence.
come crash my voice,
in a nifty resonance.
And the bottle of wine is poured out,
while my feet flee.
Away from my mirror.
I will fly, exhausted, till my will is strong enough.
Gravity. Words are fallinʼ.
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.
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!
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.
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!
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.