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[dopo-caffe]

Del blu nemmeno

conservo più,

il balsamo del vespro.

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Points of view, points of truth

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Sta dove non c’è sole

e la vita è spenta

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Last

The light touch of a feather, blown on my shoulder by some presence, distractly falls behind memories. Turns grey like ashes, shadows cover the colors behind my pupils. Pale body, didn’t even had time to rot. Dried, with a scary smile. It must have been cyanotic in nature, like death. Flesh and bones, or just bones.

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A spark of light takes so little time to rise and fall

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The neverending stream of pain, it’s like a hiss getting louder and louder, sometimes quieter, but always present. It’s powered by a huge dark mighty wall with barbed wire on top, preventing any human to cross it. Screaming in the void is useless, yet necessary to vomit all the venom stored inside.

Such a useless being.

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The light, her smile

Spring is born, night is gone.

Gold and silk, the sweetest smell.

Moon beside, eyes alike.

Fall here, in these arms you can breath.

Silver shattered slivers, whispering, close your eyes.

Rest, there's the sea, embracing.

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A magnificent poem from my soulmate:

“The night is dark,

and full of terrors.

But black shadows stay,

and especially the blue.”

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“Someone can be madly in love with you and still not be ready. They can love you in a way you have never been loved and still not join you on the bridge. And whatever their reasons you must leave. Because you never ever have to inspire anyone to meet you on the bridge. You never ever have to convince someone to do the work to be ready. There is more extraordinary love, more love that you have never seen, out here in this wide and wild universe. And there is the love that will be ready.” ― Nayyirah Waheed

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Fade away

Dark,

so dark is the abyss.

A tiny candle is pouring wax down below.

It’s cold,

it’ll be done soon.

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“What happened to us, here...”

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Gone

I’ve had enough.

No more pain can be born anymore,

too much.

A file, life,

is not for me.

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Burden

So far,

an infinite, dry land,

isolated.

No flowers, no trees,

nothing can grow in this field.

Metaphysical walls,

their nature is unknown,

impossible to address,

impossible to tear down.

No peaceful end for the unforgiven,

sleepless until the end of times,

spilling drop by drop all the blood,

all the juice of life.

Wandering in pain,

under a forever perishing red sun.

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Sewing boundaries, away from the flesh.

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Elsewhere,

silence all around.

sewing boundaries so tight,

bleeding so far.

Home,

mess all around,

shrunken is the sight,

digging so down.

Pouring.

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EVERYTHING DIES

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Just another day,

nothing more to say.