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 Jun 23 guy scutellaro
lyla
i have a sadness lurking in me
the base of every poem i write
the core of my love
as i give myself papercuts
from your letters
and your poems
and i sit quietly
in the shadow
of your starlight.
I am incapable of writing
So don't try to convince me that  
I possess countless poetic ideas.

Because at the end of the day,  
I see only failures in every attempt.  
And I'm not about to lie by saying that  
each setback helps me along.

Because no matter what,  
                        I feel trapped in a cycle of mediocrity.                        
And I am in no position to believe that  
true inspiration dwells within me.

For even in my darkest musings,  
Am I as uninspired as my doubts proclaim?
Backwards poems are so fun to write! They take away my writer's block!
Only his mind can unravel my mysteries. A symphony for the silence between stars.
No Veil,no guise, just infinite knowing a love existed before time could⏳💌🌹
¿Cómo puedo amar algo que no es mío?
¿El frío no hace temblar los huesos?
¿Si amor es lo que pides?
¿No pueden los árboles respirar?
¿El amor a primera vista termina?
¿Dios no ama al mundo?
¿Qué no eres para mí?
¿El sol no sale después de las cinco?
¿No te gusta oír mi voz antes de dormir?
¿Hay una entrada al cielo, no?
¿Tú sientes mi alma sobre ti?
¿Las rosas no tienen espinas?
¿Es mejor ver el amor venir?
¿El amor, no ve mucho más de la distancia?
¿Quizás?
Wish we could meet
Each dawn again,
Let whispers become banners
And let our hearts play.

Wish I could be the breeze
That gives life to your hair,
Hold you gently
Let you know I'm there.

We've been rivers
For years gone sour,
The ocean's, sweetly, nearing
In time, we'll be devoured.
I saw Time standing at the corner of my room.
He was watching me—writing this poem,
Witnessing my mistakes and metaphors allure to doom.
He exactly knew what I was going to write:
The final act, the audience's reaction, and all things accompanying this sect.
Still, like a silent teacher, he didn’t react.
I had to address my fault with not-so-wholesome tact.

It acted like a father, watching my every move.
It always knew when I would be awake, and when I would snooze.
Even when things harmed me, it let me choose;
He didn’t tell me the answers to my quest—
Whether it was about my growth, journey, or a silly love test.

I bow my head to my teacher—this testing Time.
Gratitude to all which was phased by Time.
 Jun 23 guy scutellaro
M
Textos o no, te sigo extrañando.
Te sigo pensando. Cuando más te pienso, más me duele.
Y me ase triste.
Me hace llorar.
Para AA.
Let your sore bleed
Let the soldiers speak
The pain of the military
The soldier’s war poetry.

~~
The dog crying in the streets
Listen to the news of the devil

~Crossroads~

A glimpse of the red light!

~~
The speed of green tank wheels
The sound of fear that the night reveals.
Bury a prophecy
— resurrection assured

(The New Room: April, 2025)
Maybe you like to be my Adonis
But you have no face, to face the crowd
Expose your secrets like ***** linens hang outside the house, in the backyard
Or a dug secret, untold to everyone just like every skeleton in the closet
I highly doubted, many will miss you
I got a pistol and a shovel
Make no mistakes, soldier
One wrong move and you are out.
You may be the one in higher position, but I am still your commander.
Do not mess with me, if you wanna still be alive and breathing...

—Signed by your wife.
(No shovel involved)
To all the women with soldier husbands. Goodluck! If you have a faithful husband, good. If not, take charge.
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