Scarlet symphony of rough elements,
celestial concubine of the good omen
slowly sipped though by a vogue fate.
Roots of legendary sources
are plunged into the rusty soil
and perched on waves
of frequencies in meditation.
Clouds of gold foil are felted
in lacquered curls by the wind,
admiring the highest appearance
of the innermost and pure awareness.

None of the rays of sunshine
would deign this waxy skin,
just sand burned to ashes,
regurgitation from the slobbery hysteria
of the filthy sea.
None of these days of summertime
would violate my inner ancestral frost.
Red dragon of stone, this soul of mine
beneath the labyrinthine ghost,
of the wicked fate.
The stoic age wears the same livery,
in the smoke of my hyperuranium
no scream comes over this far
where the solid patience
is the only certainty
that dwells inside my self.

There cannot be only one sky,
I would have the chance to breath
if you were under the same one
where I’m begging for air.
Even you could hear crying
the glowing petals of my senses,
when the infinite is filled up
in the gaze, gone up in flames.
You could be satiated
with filtered ardour
through oriental dyed fabrics.
I’ll spare you from stifling
walking across my incense labyrinths,
where the ironic violet rivulets
will quench the thirsty mystery.
Mystery doesn’t give itself
to whom is not enjoying it,
what are you waiting for?
Bring me back to joy!

Thunder… then lightning,
feverish caress of musky notes,
****** scent of loving irony
to curiously tempt each edge
of such a fractionated cubism.
Tiny desert rose, ready
to dilate all its farthest dusty ravines
just to feel its lymph racing out of bounds.
Hot water runs down on me,
raw and bitter into my mouth,
a taunting sadism
for better wince, essentially
in a universe that is not there.
Painted glow of cynic nocturnes,
diluted to loss,
watered down to dawn.

I would be a naive white lie
when all you need is dreaming,

and the secret words you mean
to say with silence. 

I would be the kind of things
you've never done before

and all the things you
would never have enough of. 



I would be the crossroad where  
you’ll always have a choice,

and your better half coming along
on all your adventures. 

I would be love running through
if you feel like dying inside,

and the guiding light if you get lost
in the darkest time. 



I would be kissing your hands
if you have to clench your fists,
and a drum to play your most
true inner self beating,

I would be white sheets of paper
to collect your thoughts,

and a blank canvas ready  
to embody your impulse.



I would be there if you're numb
to take you dancing in the rain,

and the weird and magic energy  
before a summer storm.

I would be a mirror for the sunset
if it's behind your back,

and the hot dry wind of a sin
you won’t ever regret.



I would be a thrilling wave
you can’t wait to catch,

and the conquest of creative space
inside your noisy chaos. 

I would be the thirst for life
you suddenly instilled into me,

both challenge and careless fun
and all you’d care to believe in.


I would be possibly amazing
as your wistful colorful voice,
and 
the call of the ocean
with its most delightful breeze..


If just once I would be ever heard
would you care I give you u my all?

All is a nothing, thanks to you
happiness now I came to know.

Veins full of drought
early cages for my demons,
huming currents blow
through these blackend wrinkles,
cracks of atrophic mud.
A force from above
keeps pushing me your way,
but I’m vividly hiting the ground
like a feather fallen from your wings,
or a chord that can never touch you,
like an ice cube left sober into your last glass,
or a dream you won’t recall,
as your eyes unfold
to ennoble and delight the day…
life, again, never puts me at ease
only teases me about what I’m not…
I’m a contradiction of lines
persistently dying inside,
bleeding out to death
but just for the Joy
that now I know.

Errant, vast, my expanses
in the depths of hypnotisms
so ancient… still so spicy…
Reverberation of distant essences
is the adamantine wake
of dreaming satellites.
I collect rainbow sparks,
exalted
by craters of inlaid borders.
I would feel a silky tinkling
echoing in my throat,
but without a key,
the unknown does not reveal the intent
of me put down on this world...