one day, i passed by phoneix café;
weren't you the one
playing bass guitar there?

saw you at a table before,
tying back your strings
in safe double knots
so that you show 50% of your grief
when you perform.

biker jacket, broken soul,
you were hurt by something
that you still adore.

they see that.
they find themselves in your pain.
but do i know, do the boys and the girls
in the first row know
who you were months ago?

stormy storm,
do not fade away.
the raindrops falling
as cold rivers
**** the silence and
the lonely loneliness.

the birds hiding,
the bugs diving.
still i see the pretty,
the innocent you.
connection is vital,
transparent and true.

stormy storm,
i feel your anger,
i know your rues.

take deep breaths
before summer comes.
the hot heavy air
once inhalated
destroys the coldness
of the mind, of the body.
spontaneous fires
light up in people and
burn as wildly as the sun.

summer is heaven?
it heats and heals,
but slowly withers
the green, honest souls.
summer is freedom?
the sky is clear,
the moon is tenderer,
we feel the night.

a pretty fall,
a blushing evil fairy,
summer will become the all;
a steamy world,
in which
the lovely shady trees
the ocean breeze
will be a dead touch.

only the flowers' petals
always trust the wind

pain creates the most
profund poetry,
pain creates the most
shiny pearls,
pain is the tool
that changes who we are,
pain is the sharp wind
in winters,
something you undoubtely feel
when you are brave.
an alarm signal,
a remider that your body is not
translucid and that it shines.
you try to escape reality,
but the remais of past
come agressively in waves.
morfine.
anyone can hurt you
and you are anyone too.
so what can we do?
pain starts and ends
a war.

pain is better than fear
as the blue skies are
better than the grey ones.

i was out dancing in the rain
when i felt the heat of the sunrise.
perhaps a thunder lightened
my heart and the top of my fingers
or perhaps a thunder made me
be the darkest i will ever be.
but somehow then i was alive.

why everything hurts me?
the silence i say
i am comfortable with
the people who
dont know i exist
the nights i choose
not to sleep
even the stupid storms
makes me fall in deep
the flowers scent
gives me headaches
and the empty rooms
help me break.
why everything
hurts me?

late night party
in this grey neighbourhood;
i am living and dying
next to you.

can i hide in your arms?
can i be just who i am
in your aqua-marine eyes?
my hands are shivering,
the concept of future
makes me so scared
but
i... i am waiting for a
change.

the sun rises in the east
the sun sets in the west;
and we do the same;
we are, just like everybody is,
we are losing the game.

my cracked walls are full
of printed poems.
black and white.
but the emptiness
can have many colors;
so i choose the blue.

it s almost summer
and the sun reflects on
the white, guilty
pages of your book.
close it! and wait till
a translucid cloud
covers the star.

do you feel the coldness
in the heavy air?
do you feel the shivers
when i read those
beautiful lines pinned
to the walls and to my heart?

there is nothing
to hold on to.
memories, ilussions,
clouds, all gone.
but it's still so beautiful
when true life itself
puts you in a trance.

i wanted to write something
to find, to explain mysef.
i wanted not just to find the way
out of this labyrinth of suffering,
i wanted to make myself
look up at the beautiful sky
and enjoy the birds' songs
and the wind's voice straying
in this labyrinth next to me,
whenever i am stuck between
its tall and secure walls.

i was afraid of emptiness
and fullfilness, so i just lived.
there wasn't just day or night,
there were grey abstract times
when rational points disappeared.
in those moments some burried
their hearts in the shimmering ground
but got somehow again to the entrace.

this crazy labyrinth is the map
of my soul, the map of a ghost city,
still i don't want it to fade away
because these walls, this sky, this ground
are the only things that i have,
that are truly mine.