the dawn collapses sometimes under its own weight while
worlds of gestures are well preserved under the eyelids,
hardly random grammars, addiction to illusions,
the space of grace, the space for violence misued
muted tempos in the fragility of thoughts
we know many words but not the right language to talk to each other,
the vocabulary of hurt exploded inside narrow spaces,  the temple of skin empty
recycle bins full of our selves
we confuse the world with the contours of our pain

untitled the day sometimes
when love has left behind the birth of language

but I fill in the blanks of thought with black panthers
they watch you closely as days lose their names and time moves in all directions
no ordinary dreams in the present continuous of flesh
but some flashes of certainty:
the colour of my tears suits you well,
distant is the moon from its own doubt

a fearless incantation in my watery hands
that show you things you don't wanna know
about the fluidity of bones
I imagine with my fingers poems  you've never
asked for cause happiness is a bitter woman for you
take me back home from the land of noise
keep me in your armpit like the shadow of a smile

I can feel you at the end of thoughts  tonight
as I dance the forgotten rituals of touch
I  wanna be your perfect stranger till
the trance of darkness flickers
in your bottomless eyes

today is a straightforward day
when the light lends me some essence
the foliage is getting more ardent
the daymon of thought less voracious
the sky is self-contained
this path or that path insists not to leave any trace
inside, today is just another day stolen from the void of mistery
I am wearing all my loves as one in my wrinkles
pneuma stories if you look straight into the rain of photons
and yes, my chest is still the nest of a hurricane

there was a time when
I used to love your shadow
even in my dreams
and daylight was a blessing
cause I caught your screams
incubating in my left shoulder
beyond the doors
much was still possible
-sexus plexus nexus-
in the trenches where
your silence had died

my hand in your hand is jazz
the knot of our tender looks is poetry
and rage sometimes
all details germane,
this fluidity of desire passing through
the unexpected like sheets of rain
the kiss on my shoulder
the lightness of your soles
a love without name without shame is improvising
and you say come and I say round until I fall into your shadow
and when I fade away you open the door of a song
in my palms the forgotten synesthesia when
I listen to the intensity of cells, to the sacredness of dreams
I wear the boldness of the earth for you
I swear the freedom in the core of mirrors