No, I'm not a poet.
I'm just an interpreter of tales in which tears are drops of longing ...
Tales, in which I hear through my ears
echoes of an invisible and indivisible world ...
I sometimes like to pour myself a little red
and sweet wine of the silence cup,
the inner silence is erupting from me,
which seems to me to be a deaf-mute dispute between heart and reason ...

No, I'm not a poet.
Only words are fighting against me,
but still, I feel my heart is lifting in their arms,
with the same intensity as at the beginning...
The letters in my words do not need arguments,
they just want to free themselves,
to touch souls more and more, joining in verses,
their destinies being knotted with rhymes ...


No, I'm not a poet.
I'm just a human beeing who, for a few moments,
has a breath of inspiration,
swallowing with greed the air from the room
where I lay down my silence, my love, my longing,
trying to transform words into a vibrant power, almost tangible.
Sometimes I use words with a killing flesh of attraction,
like a masterful crowning of the letters that take hold of my pen...
and sometimes with a gentle, sweet glance,
whispering voluptuously, making my rhymes fall on their knees ...


No, I'm not a poet.
I just measure the universe with a hungry, critically eye-catching curiosity,
while the aroma of my coffee is flowing in the air,
escaping from the espresso,
mysteriously and dazzling...
I just caress the words on the pavements of the lyrics
peeled by the rains of the heart where the letters are sad and lonely...

Now I retire with a slight bow,
as an unspoken satisfaction, in front of all those who read me,
in front of the ones you know me...
A delusive lust to write a few lyrics has taken me by surprise...
maybe about truth, maybe about numb dreams,
maybe about the cure of lost hearts... which is love!

white
round and clean
it sees me sit in the gallery
looking at the painting.

cold
smooth and generously
it pats my back when I get too tired to
look anymore.

if I said I could paint YOU
here in this room that YOU gave me
if I could touch the feet of
       the ones who cared.

please feed
please feed
please feed
me

white
round and clean
it sees me stand before the painting
laughing with Kitaj eyes.

cold
smooth and sincerely

it looks at its watch.

In my irises my pupils turn
Into blast waves
Are you aware
That this gaze
Was a lit fuze
Severed chains
My latest jewels
Flames crave
The intake
Volatile fuel
Oxygen
****** in
Catalyst lips

Our children are flames
We are embers weeping sparks
Our scriptures remain
On ash-imprinted hearts

I feel with a fierce intensity
anger turns to rage,
happy turns to joyful,
and sadness turns into
devastation. I feel
subtly heavier right
now. Every breath feels
undeserved like im trying
to repair my ribcage with air.

She takes her time tracing the lines of my body, but she doesn't need much, I soon feel the electricity of her touch,sending shocks of passion through parts of me I was unaware of before she introduced me to this new way of loving and being loved.

I watch her relish every moment, as she drives me to the edge of insanity, and I relax, allowing her to take me there, to a place where I'm unaware of anything else's existence, no matter where we are or who is around, I am simply lost in her.

It is a place I've never been able to reach before, one outside of myself, outside of my insecurities and constantly inhibiting thoughts.

A temporal paradox where minutes feel like hours that somehow pass so quickly. There is never enough time to feel like I've had enough of her.
        
I will never have enough.

Yet as I watch her I grow impatient, waiting for my chance to return the favor, to throw her down and make her forget, everything she's learned about passion before becoming aware of my existence.

I find my juncture and seize it flawlessly, before she notices what is happening, it is already done, her body succumbing to my every whim, allowing me to take the wheel.

Leading her slowly down the path of excruciating pleasure, reading her body like a map, her sighs the soundtrack to my road trip through the marvel that is her body.

I take in every sight, each it's own wonder of my world, and take the time to figure out what unlocks its secrets. And I find them, within the deepest parts of her. Trembling beneath the surface waiting to be seen and heard.

We go back and forth incessantly, in this confined space that we utilize every inch of without ever missing a beat.

The rhythm of our bodies inherently synchronized, intoxicated on the taste and scent of each other, we move seamlessly with the other, in the most elaborate dance, until we feel the satisfaction of our chemical reaction and witness the explosion.

Basking in the glow of the embers, we unwind and attempt to breathe only to realize we've exhausted the supply of oxygen in this utopia we've built in our own stolen corner of the world.

A burning fire, intense,
Loving you is my intent,
Still a magic of intensity,
A laugh, and chemistry,
We love to finish our days,
In burning, intense love haze......

It was in April we met of last year
Never thought I'd hold you so dear
A curious thing I thought you were
Loud, eccentric, and certainly belligerent
Of my feelings, mostly inconsiderate

At odds were we from the start
With every argument we rip each other clean apart
We clash like demigods on the battlefront
I, petulantly persistent and you, cruelly blunt
I am stubborn and prideful just like you
An abundance of intense feelings between we two
Polar opposites in personality are we
But some of the things in you I see in me

Leery was I of your intentions
Following every reply with even more questions
See, no matter how hard I try can't read you
So handing my trust over to you is an issue
I've never had someone be so true
It scares me to death, because true people are so few

Even if you are not meant to be my lover
You'd be a genuine friend--like no other
(Even at times when we can't stand one another)

Patient sometimes you are with me
As I slowly release my grip and conceed to our reality
For whatever twisted reason there may be
I love you for you and you love me for me

It takes all I have

to control

each action sluiced

and sliced

into little round cubes

burnt by internal fire

soft ash dust

sparse windy air

pocketing my desire

for you in pieces

just waiting

for the right moment

to leap into unknown waters

feet first

so frozen and

the river could be cold

to the touch

but your skin is warm

and gentle

heat rising

searing my arm

tingling my senses

scrambling my brain

to mottled bunches.



I have too much



self control



(and it's eating me alive.)

I feel like someone just squeezed me alive!
The rain is now pelting down by my side.
Somehow I was let go from my job.
It's nothing personal I guess I'm a snob.
I feel as though my life is closing to an end.
There's no future here for me, my friend.
As an adult I pay my dues.
With no money in my account I am barren blues.
I kind of like a boy who I don't know very well.
These feelings inside me are making me swell.
Should I go hide or burry my face in the dirt.
Or is this a sign that when life really hurts
and the grey skies pour down
and the heavy clouds unburden
their sorrow there has to be meaning
in these wet tears to swallow.
It's kind of like a bittersweet revelation.
A complete failure or a filigree contemplation.
Somewhere deep inside, I weep.
In silent pity I lay to sleep.