summer is gone
and gone is the only love i ever had.
orange was the sky,
blue was my heart,
but now i have to go back,
to my home,
to old Pleasantville.

i am young,
i should have more fun,
i will not be young forever,
i should enjoy the run.
the stars, the sea, the mountain peaks,
every man watches them,
happy that the wish came true.

you and i,
we fitted the golden picture,
riding our rented bikes in the square,
ingoring the danger in the air.

this blanket doesn't
keep you warm
so you close your eyes
and beg for
more and more life.

now your world is cold
because when
you were up high
you stared at the sun
when others jumped
and killed the light.

now it feels like
you lost your mind.

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.

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 eyes are blue
because i stare at the sky,
my nails are black
because empathy died.

lovers and serial killers
meet at midnight.
they take the risk
and rivive the moonlight.

the dynamic clouds
are higher than you think;
i open my arms
but i can't feel the breeze.

sadness is just war
my sword is made of plastic,
but i will fight with grace
and life will seem artistic.

white tiny butterflies
fly over our heads,
they teach us how to dream
and ignore the screams.

resting my head
on the cold window sill,
i stare somewhere far,
beyond the sky,
then take a long look
at the sun
with my bare eyes.

too much light,
too much warmth,
can hurt a lonely person.
but i can't stop dancing
to your songs,
i can't look down anymore when
i see your electric eyes.

all the roads lead to you
and i truly want them to;
because i see
the heaven,
the sky
in your pretty eyes
and i know that
you can change me
but i can't change you.

i have been scared of death
since the day i learnt i was alive;

blue ***** drops rise
from the heart of the ocean
reaching for the forbiden place,
reaching for brightest star
that will bring their end.

for them we are as irrelevant
as an orange cloud in a storm;
the raindrops which fall on our faces
are pure and cold, but carry
the gold.

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?

she lost herself
at the end of
february
when the world
stopped being
as cold as her.

all the harmless tricks
and the ice on the ground
were melted
by the brighter sun.

i've heard you
talking to the stars.
do your scars
heal with their light?
do they feel,
compassionate and kind,
your sorrow,
and understand
your blue life?

i've talked to them once
cold as iced ice,
they wasted my time.

i like talking to the
grass, the flowers
instead.
they aren't dead,
immortal or fire-red.
they aren't wise,
they just empathise.
the trees, the green
sometimes talk back
and i listen like a child;
the rustling leaves,
the broken twigs.

but you look up!
bored of the ground,
you need their coldness,
their empty shiny eyes.

if you end up hurting me
i will look up to the universe,
grow roots in the ground
and shed tears while smiling.

does not every experience
bring us closer to this world's heart?
a string of light connects me to you
since the day we first met
and now it is just getting brighter.

i don't know how to live
and this is my best excuse.
you can leave me.
you can try to break the string.
you can continue to believe that
you are the center
of something infinite.

because
on the moon
there are no rules
and breathtaking views.

i like astronomy
but i can t decide if
my feelings for you
are
meteors
or
meteorits?

rendez-vous at nine
trust me, i am fine.

sweet summer days
i m here for the chase.

pink lipstick red
look at what i had.

shells and ocean waves
always in a race.

listening to blues
dancing till we lose.

sleeping on the sand
holding your cold hand.

setting blue pale fires
we burn the souls desires.

feeling good as freaks
learned all their tricks.

we travel in paper boats
loud fireworks.

beautiful colors of the night
i haven t lost my sight.

we live on this beach
feeling wild and rich.

only the flowers' petals
always trust the wind

the sun begins to set
and it gets dark in our houses
so we draw the curtains
eventhough the sky is
still burning in the west.

it is autumn.
you are golden;
you were golden
in summer
too.

watching from the window
i would throw myself
and arrive down there,
in the world.

but i will never do that
because from down there,
all the people don t seem smaller
and i can hear their screams
and fall in love with sad faces
and my smile is believed to be
as fake as theirs.

my world is blue
and if you kiss me
i will **** you too.

roses dry faster
in my sweaty hands;
outside is storm
and my window is
wide open.

so get in the car
and drive down
to the wild sea;
lose yourself there,
lose yourself
at the place
i lost my sanity.

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.

still cannot
understand
how people can
kiss strangers
and feel high.
it's like the
worst lie
you don't
have to say
but you still
use your
lips.

i am sorry.
the light agressively
woke me up and
made me live another day
as a part of this
insanely organised world.

you said i had a
beautiful, misunderstood
mind.
so i began to act like
i did not belong there.

if only you hadn't failed
to be my home,
if only i had learned earlier
that i am in control
of my present.

these modern tribes
are so afraid of
loneliness and death,
each life is mediocre
and golden
in the same time.

i met him at a masquerade, a silly place
where people do not need names.

wearing the mystery of the night,
dancing under the raw spotlight,
his honey lips, his indecisive eyes
were feeding innocent souls with lies.

but then i saw him, at midnight,
alone and hidden with his one light
-the lonely moon, the queen of dead
in front of whom his cheeks turned red.

he was just a tragic moonlover
when the masquarade was over.
oh, that poor disguised angel
made falling in love seem so fatal...

she walked on the pier
to be closer to the heart of the sea.

as the girl was waiting for
the waves,
the shells
and the moonlight
to empower her once again,
some tears fell on her cheek;
they were cold and salty.

the wind was calling her
by the name
given at the birth of the universe.
the marine creatures
were humming and scampering.

she couldn't be helped that night
but the sea was still her salvation.

it was high time
she had become a mermaid.

her feet never touched the land again;
she went further the end of the pier.

the stars will not light up tonight
they seem to fear the dark.
they realised the sky is just a trap
and people are too small to care about.

so this night i will live my life
because darkness is now in all of us
and i feel so beautiful and wild.

the world is violet, black and blue
so i do not care if you once pretended
to be a sane sad dreamer too.
dance your own dance and then fly.

now i can touch all my ilussions,
i decide whats poisonous for my mind
now the wind is playing with my hair
and the world that used to know me is far
far away.

today,
an unexplainable joy
electrified my body.
i dreamt about the future
and i felt bittersweet
because i had chosen
the hardest path to freedom.

i was a bird, a hunter and
the wind.
i killed myself and then
i was killed;
change seemed such a cliché
but death did not.

my story is worth-telling.
your dime novels sell good.
i can let you invent an ending.
tell them who i am
or who i were.

we are neon.
we wear it on our hair,
on our eyelids
and on our clothes.

at night,
we are nobody's sons
and nobody's daughters.
we lure in
moths
that see us like specks of light
in their own subconscious darkness.

we are alive,
but the sun still rises up
if we die.

we are neon.
beautiful and wanted,
young and noble,
our bodies shine in
yellow, green and blue,
but our wounds are red.

i walk on the narrow streets
like nobody walks,
i feel the burning pavement
through my shoe soles
and i know
how many trees and
how many faces
the wind carressed
before it touched mine.

i have not touched the edge.
i have not fallen that deep,
then i have not felt like flying
and i have not fooled myself
that i will land on my feet
and be as innocent as once.
nor have i melted on the ground
but crying because it hurts
when risk and hope colide.
still injured i have not smiled,
so proud that i fell fearless
even my fragile heart
broke into small pices.

yeah, i have not done this
i will just keep waiting.

yes, i write about you,
but you are someone else
in my spectrum world.
you are a saviour,
who will save us all.

are you a saviour in the real world?

i could read out loud
for the ivy which climbs my walls,
the poems i write
about her heart-shaped leaves;
because i know that
her innocent vanity
will not make her poisonous.
but for you,
those poems would be poison,
the roots
of your future toxic actions.

yes, you once did me good,
so i borrowed your name
and now i am letting the old you
live
in my pretty words.

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.

the boy with black hair
talks like a renaissance person
and shines like Venus.

he is ******* up and brilliant,
he is cold and full of venom,
but he cannot love
and he cannot die.

my mind has been far,
wandering through his universe.
it stops and listens to his heartbeat.
silence.

the world is his,
but he does not belong here.
the boy is a sphere
of incomprehensible truths
and we are just a circle.

r.c.
r.c.
you are my only ticket to eternity.

but how lovely
a stranger's eyes are
when you see them
reflected in the bus
window!

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?

i don't need people.
the sun embraces me
everyday,
the salty waves
greet me at nights,
and the stars
dance beside me
with their disco light.

i find myself in
this quiet,honest,wild
world,
where every bird's song
and every wind blow
is playing in the
background.

nothing hurts me,
everything is just as it is.