There was that director in the room and his film
on the screen. He had filmed clouds
nothing but clouds pushed by the wind
with their incomprehensible shapes
which sometimes looked like clear images
but they only seemed so and you needed
an imagination effort and
the ability to delude yourself to believe
that those clouds, which were not clouds
but only their images,
could mean anything than nothing.

*

POESIA 3:

C’era quel regista in sala e il suo film
sullo schermo. Aveva filmato le nuvole
niente altro che nuvole spinte dal vento
con le loro forme incomprensibili
che talvolta parevano figure note
ma lo parevano solamente e ci voleva
uno sforzo di immaginazione e  
la capacità di illudersi per credere
che quelle nuvole che non erano nuvole
ma solo l’immagine delle nuvole
volessero significare altro che niente.

I want to be your favorite tv show
I want to be the blue dice on your rearview mirror
I want to be the words in your favorite quote
I want to be the folded page in that book
so you wont lose your spot
I want to be something you'll hold, touch, feel and cherish
I want to be yours

My grumpy face doesn't stop him from kicking my *** on Street Fighter.

My illogical arguments makes him laugh, he even use them against me.

He laughs at me like I'm an irrational child.

He rolls his eyes at my singing and dancing in the kitchen.

When I refuse to be quiet, he sighs and moans.

Yet,
he holds my hand through movies that scare me.

He tries to keep me warm though he's sweating.

He values my opinion even though he doesn't agree.

He holds me tight, even when he's mad at me.

He cries while laughing at me.

He gives me everyting, even when I don't deserve it.

He is my partner and best friend.

If this isn't love, I don't know what is

At the cinema they project a movie
And in that movie at a certain point it's raining
And it's a so realistic rain
That I pull the jacket on
Almost to protect myself
Even outside it's raining, or
Perhaps  not.
It's truth this rain that in a dream we dream
Even when it's raining outside?

*

POESIA 2:

Al cinema danno un film
e nel film a un certo punto piove
ed è una pioggia così realistica
che io mi tiro addosso il giubbino
quasi a proteggermi
anche fuori sta piovendo, o forse no.
E’ vera la pioggia che in un sogno sogniamo
anche quando fuori piove?

They say pictures paint a thousand words,
But I'd rather hear the ones drawn by your lips,
The ones lost in the movement of your hips.
As if the air your lungs exhale,
Was the only air mine knew how to inhale.
As if the melody of the sound waves your vocal chords send my way,
Were in perfect harmony with the sound of my heart beating...
... Broken and out of sync, like it's on the brink of collapse

And I know that pictures paint a thousand words but actions paint a million more
But the only action I seem to recall is my hand holding yours,
Pressed up against the wall, your lips pressed against mine,
Not drawing anything more but emotions, raw pure affection, pure movie magic, pictures in motion.

Pictures do paint a thousand words but you left me blind,
And now all I can do is hear the words one by one, haunting my every thought,
Leaving me a faint image, the memory of a picture painting no words at all.

It was an adoration of the body
the male body
It reminded me of statues
of desire
of a ****** gaze
and multiple pleasures
what an aesthetic way
to compare life
to water
the cycle of life
the maternal side of life
what a tragedy