I am driving but today the city smells
like combustion,
smog could be just so poetic.
I think about it
all, as I write these lines for you.
I am my own ink, yours
it doesn't feel the same.
As I think about you, my breath
blurs the car's window.

Fingers gliding over the cold crystal and over
me
wishing
you were here
and wishing you
would press your lips against my skin.
Whisper.

Touch me here, between the ribs
A little to the left
Up, where my chest rumbles. Mio cardio.
Can you feel it?
The fear I've got, the anxiety that doesn't let me sleep in nights like this one.
Sometimes, when everything is still,
I like to think about the veins that run through my body.
It ain't always a good idea: I like silence and I walk the day looking for it, crawling in search of the oasis that is stillness,
the satiating thing of being alone.
But I'm never completely alone, my body is one of those cities that never sleep.
You don't know what I mean? Do you think they are suicidal thoughts?
Come on
Put it on a general plane, picture the whole picture.
You think you are alone but in reality how alone you can be in a 4x4 room, I don't know you tell me.
Tell me, tell me how you can find peace in the rapid rise of your chest at 3 am when everyone is already sleeping
Tell me how you manage to keep all those words that burst from your half open eyes when the light that keeps your body going, fades.
Tell me why you keep doing that
If you have paper in front of you, if you have a lifetime in front of you.
Tell me why you keep things, why do you do it?
Yes, you think that nobody listens anymore, that people have stopped caring
But thousands of souls on this planet think the same.
Can you imagine if we all sat down to talk sometime?
No one would ever feel alone again.