I've missed.
A mistake does not
Define me.

It's
Just
A
Mistake.

Sorry.

Among the wounded and the dead,
Everyone was saved;
Everything I can put my eyes on
is invisible to me.

The pain I actually feel
cannot bother me,
and, often, I feel
only to miss it.

What is there,
that lives beneath anger
that calms me down?

The burning touch
of a sweet song
dries out these eyes
that never saw tears
for suffering is desert;
in the desert I'm lost,
in the desert I remain conscious,
in the desert, alone, I found company,
in the desert, weak, I stayed strong enough to keep living,
in the desert I remained steady to keep on moving.

The dry branches that never came to be
are the flourishing of everything that was possible.
Otherwise I would be someone else.

Walking with tight shoes
One meter sight ahead,
Trembling, feet by feet on a wonky land.

My bones cold,
My fear well fed
By imaginary hands,
And food nevertheless real:
The end of the alley, cornered.

One year, one month,
Silly calculations of an inexact variable,
My head up and down
Of every thought,
Short lenses,
Missing landscapes,
Loud chaotic songs,
Distracting every bit of me
In bits, bytes, pixels and inches
Of an infinite and small creation.

Deep inside I had this hope
That I could bear us, and
The unforgiven would be just a bad memory.

I had this hope
That yesterday's problems wouldn't resist
The cruel test of time.

I had this hope
That our new found love
Was born differently.

I had this hope
That I would resist strongly,
That I would fight for my sanity,
And warm, calm waters
Would occupy all the trenches.

Hope is just hope,
With no past, present or future.
Hope is a wanderer,
A promiser,
A guest never to arrive,
A cure for other's disease,
An oasis one mile away of him who died of thirsty,
The imminent accident of which we'll all die someday,
And all we can do is live to wait.

We live for concepts
From which we take nothing in the end.

Almost thirty years I've passed
The same old Memoir Street,
With houses to be built,
Lamps to be installed
(with lights fading, and ghostly shadows),
And its 37 crossings, unknown.

Dead ended possible streets that I know not
Its unlocked doors,
hidden and tricky passages,
Non-measuring eyes,
Windows with children watching horror movies at midnight
(softer than real life).

Wastelands in surroundings,
Grids and bricks always limiting,
Dead ends of dead ends of dead ends,
Like thoughts trapped in logic,
Like heartbeats tied in the frequencies of a forgotten song.

My body, trapped in my mind,
Trapped in my culture,
Trapped in my biology,
Trapped in my reactions,
Is, still, mine.
Everything and nothing I own.

Any other way is just a hypothesis.

Full,
I am in most ways:
Loved, lived, livid.

Empty,
Spaces grow
When I pass:
Weeks, days, lengths,
Lands, roads, feelings.

I'm a point in nowhere
Incalculable in speed, in size
And dimensions,
Half here, half there,
Not mine nor others',
Just a vague matter
In a strange strange
Full-empty world.

I've searched endlessly
Inside myself
Only to find
In you
What I needed
For my own company
To be enough.

What are we but fishes?
We are baits,
We bite what we are
In the quest to seize
The little life
Tied to what
Wants us bones

Every tiny fraction
of movement and action
cannot be re-done.

Lost attention
is a lost moment,
forever a lost sight,
forever vanished
in the irresistibility of time.

Things we lose
are things we never ought to own,
are Destiny's belongings,
are other's gestures
never to be received by us,
connections hanging in thin air,
never to be captured.

Awareness is a warm gun.

Today's gray heaven
hides a bright sky
above the clouds.

Heaven, the Earth's limit,
seems closer today,
in a homogeneous,
tedious gray.

Distant buildings,
somewhat tall buildings,
seem like a printed landscape,
almost as gray
as the gray cloudy sky.

I can hear fading airplane sounds
hidden in the vast grayness,
and I can hear pigeons
competing against cars,
singing joyfully,
ignoring (so I imagine)
the lack of color above all.

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes.
Still not warm,
still not bright,
but there are definitely
light beams bravely leaking
through deep, depressing clouds.