I need that

You have hurt me to the quick, my brown eyes yell. You do not listen, do not want to. Why? Everyone has left and the theatre is empty. You take my hand and ask me to leave with you as well. But, nothing is more like that day you uttered I was marvellous: for what? For the ears? For the years that will never come, although I want them to, although I need them to. You have never run your fingers through my hair. You have never kissed me when I did not kiss you: you always received, you took everything and now I am empty. I do not know how to write anymore. I want you and all the tears of the wold fall. Will it stop? Please, make it stop. Come back with your fake smile, your silent words and nothingness. I need that.

Screw

Like the clasping of a passionate lover, a flower turns its wings to the sun and follows the path of the stars that will definitely lead her to the milky way. A cow in a field blinks to a certain bug that bumps his head into a tiny gravel lost in the ground. The Earth breathes to the beat of the drums that keep on throbbing, bobbing, mobbing the lost souls of the Universe. While the movement fills out the air, I try to figure out the single particle that keeps on emitting love and affection, fancifulness and imagination, tenderness and more marvellousness than anyone. Will it be able to irradiate poisonous rays to the sun and make it bleed snails of desire? Nothing will ever be the same and different, because you are the beginning and the end to me, my hope and despair. Your hands were so strong when the screw hit the tip of your fingers every time you were on the brink of pulling them out. Divine pleasure the very thought of picturing something hurting you with all its strength and power: an objet, a rusty dangerous nail that reminds me of our interminable exchange of eyes colours and rainbows. Fishes swim in the room while your hands keep up with the hard work and your smile forever hidden to me. Music, here I go again, here I am again: I do not want to leave you, I have no desire to being nowhere far from you, but the sun? Remember the rays? Well, they are here every time I write. Maybe they'll warm my feet.

Motorcycle ride

The wind blowing on my face, a million tastes of water on my mouth. The warmth surrounding my body, the wind playing tricks on my hands. Heaven and earth combined in a single unit of sound: butterflies swimming against brakish waters and fishes crossing the edge of the sky, filling the universe with a spawn of snails and saints. Holy gracious, I am sorry for getting a hendle of that, for being done in, for being done. I would die until the crack of dawn in the speed of sound, in the speed of ligh, yes. They do reflet the flickering ligh on my eyes, green, yellow and red, yes. The traffic jam is nothing compared to the sweetness of being so near you, so close to you in a single unit of soul, in a single star of universe. Yes, they do reflect the blinking flame of disguise and disgust and diswrought and everything that parishes and stay, a constant memory hammening and tonging my mind, being not able to be able, to be, to live and to die. Wonderful experience, my wont, being near you and forgetting that I have missions and tasks to accomplish, but this is a fait accompli: I have to hand it to you, I've fallen, too quickly, to pigheadedly, too green. I cannot help it, you are my mind, by body and soul. You belong in the wind, in the warmth and in the sun... in the wetness of the deers, in the claws of the falcons and in the eyes of the tiger. Lamb, little lamb, who has made thee? Who has made thou my sorrow and guilt. No guilt this time, no chains and tears, just the freedom of the wind against my face and the weight of you body against mine.

Yellow and Green

Your yellow eyes do not ask me more than that: a sweet touch, a tender kiss and a distant wave from afar. So simple, so plain, like the eternal stones that have been hanging on a deserted field, for so long, for so many years. Nothing will be the same because at the moment I saw them a glimmer of hope has crossed the frontier of all human reason and reached a metaphysical level where past, present, future and eternity are fit for a tiny little box of dreams and stars. Feeling the softness and hardness and the wetness of your skin still playing naughty and amusing tricks on my lips I understand what really matters in a world littered with hatred and paved by broken hearts and lost souls: yellow and green. Yellow because we need light, we need the simple warmth of the sun, setting our hearts into a motionless movement that imitates the path of the tears and reach the stream of sorrow. Yellow, because this is what I dread when I am with you, but, at once, this is what sets me into motion, the food of life that bring dear waves to my ears and equals my sorrow to theirs. Theirs... theirs... Green, I mentioned green because this is me, wet behind the ears, still learning to crawl before walking, still treading the crossroads of desire and painless sensations, where angels dread to go. Indeed having you by my side is an utterly obnoxious experience, for I lose control, getting grips are against all odds, but is so much I've got to take, as the song goes on and as the minutes pass. When you are far, I miss you, miss your eyes, what enchanted me at first and what killed me forever. Yet, having you touching my hands and fondling my face give me a thoroughly sentation of liberty and release of the sins of existance and past. No time, no space, no nothing. Just yellow and green, jealousy and inexperience, cowardliness and hope. Yellow and green are your eyes, but still, all the colours of the world are on them. I gaze your picture and gently smile, I am on cloud ninety thousand and nine: I can finally see myself reflected on them.

Lost

"If self is a location, so is love" so says the poet. Well, I'm still here, selfless and loveless. Is there a meaning for such a bizzare, bottomless, blotched, bloating pad I impress single lines of despair? It's been a way overdule long time since we last talked, and yet you remain here with a promise of a destiny to be fulfilled and a candy to be devoured. I know that the big bother whose dream is to ransform Planet Earth into a huge mass of pollution is watching you every mood, every sound, every fidget who are so dazzling in the light of the day. By the way, those glasses look lovely tonight. Of course, when you are not wearing them. They make you look old and wise, when you are, in fact, young and wet behind the ears. Strike, yes, strike, while the iron is hot. But leave a little bit of vodka in the bottle so that I can finish up with them. Yes, I want to break your heart, yes, but that is so easy, I just need to pick up that stainless left floating on the first weaves of early morning and nail it in my bossom, cut it open, let it bleed until there is nothing left to hide, except for the fact you have hit the nail on the head, you have captured my soul when I thought that would be preactically impossible. Sure, I want some tea! Sure I want some water. Sure I want some fuck, but do you feel them? Can you hear my voice echoing in the depths of the ocean? My fire on the verge of ewxploding. Stop throwing a tantrum, stop making a pig's ear of it, stop clattering, stop with the platter, stop! Turn around now and kiss me and make me forget everything. Make me forget that I have to make choices and follow this loveless heart. Come on, now. Look back. It's nothing but an empty heart wating to be fulfilled.

This is for you my firend, whose words and wisom is sorely missed.

Everything

I'm experimenting. Now. Language is leaving me. I want a Universal Language. Is it love? I don't know, you say it all with your eyes:

Lost, between past and future,
Lost, between summer and noon
Thriving and hungry to touch you.

In your eyes, a face as an angel
In your eyes, the sea as a rainbow
In your eyes I see, simply everything.

P.S. There's a melody that goes along with that... though it isn't ready.