looking at the mirror
even if not apparent
there is another image
another world, another half
on one side, the fanfare
the other, the silence
resilience amid despair
on one side, all I hear
the other, all that is left unsaid
and I still insist
to remain conscious
apparent
in one hand, nurturance
in the other, discouragement
absent
transposing every moment
that I still stopped
silent, talking
looking at the mirror
even if not apparent
there is another image
another world, another half
in one hand, the missing
and in the other
too.

it's pretty enough
to yawn in the morning, lazily
watching you laid on bed
stroking your hair gently;

I'm still not sure if you understand
that the beauty isn't in sleeping
with a woman but in
waking up beside her

and now you open your eyes
with all these morning sounds
we two staring each other
as if this moment would never ends

and all I can see is
a surrounding you
by thousands means
and a feeling
that amazes things

Today I woke up and decided I won't say anything.
I'll just sit here, opened to hear everything you gotta tell me.

the intent is beautiful
when my eyes stare at yours;
my laughter is founded
and you invade me through the front door
rubbing hands and feet
the feeling is unknown;
wanna raise your hair and steal your minutes
but your presence bewilders
and I hug you slowly
to see if I can sip your scent
before you leave without me.

in every ten
days
maybe
all the
sensibly
loses the sense
you know
leaving only
a bit of
stupidity
kinda crazy
you know
kinda infantile
you know
kinda gentle
i know
i mean
i think i know
and in every ten
friends
if one of them wanted me good
would say:
"give up"
i didn't
and there was a piece of
stubbornness
senselessness
but it wasn't a choice
not this time
and in every ten
glances
peeps
keeks
one of them find you
serene
calm
tiny
protecting yourself
in your space
in your ******
and i say
to let the fluidity
flow
ignoring
dropping
all the policy
the politeness
drunkenness
deafness
until you know
until you feel
that in every ten
lots of other ten
will come
and in every ten
i'll turn the sides
and look sheepish
just to know
if you are
near
me.

I hear no more steps
in this dead monday
everybody's gone from home
and the door remains opened
the kitchen is empty and cold
seated, I see fruits in the sink
dismayed, out of tune
still not sure what I'm doing
make a coffee, rest the weariness
and in my arms
the memory of your hug
immersed in little crooked nights
empties
and me, lonely, completely exposed
guessing I'm not used
with all this rain in August.

time
no,
there is no
time

there isn't time
to birth
there isn't time
to live

they are all
wrong
so *******
wrong

and
they don't wanna
waste time
not even a second

but
there is no
school time
there is no
bed time

and you have to wait
wait for them
wait for your
turn

life
goes on
and you have to
fritter the hours

there is no time
to ****
there is no time
to hate

there is no time
to earn money
not even a day
to spend it

there isn't
party time
there isn't
time to drink

there are
just you
and there is
just time

[and it's enough to drive you crazy]

I know it's been a long time
but, occasionally, I like to read
an e-mail that you wrote me
in a May night
because in it you told
that still thought in
me

and it reminds me
I still think about you
virtually
every day.

it's pretty enough
to wake up in the morning
watching you laid on bed;
the beauty isn't in sleeping
with a woman
is waking up beside her;
and now you open your eyes
we stare each other
and all I see
is a shining you
by thousands me
and the feeling of one
amazing thing

It's hard when you say no
or worse: say nothing;
then hold my hand like it was the last
receive my embrace as if it were the only
silent
won't look in my eyes
waiting for the breaking up, which does not linger
prior to the music that we never had
without knowing that my breath revolves around your laughing answers;
It could be different
but, no, you're never here
never call
and I wait, wait, wait
just like I've always been
but you never know
or know and pretends you don't
then our time never comes
and you walk away in the middle of the night
thinking that can make me forget

i've been trying for two years and i can't
i've been trying for two years and i can not write
i can not read a book
watching a movie became torture
do any minimally long task
is impossible
i can't do anything i used to
and i don't know what's happening
because i can not even
dedicate myself to music
and these are the things i like
they are pieces of what i am
and then i'm in doubt of what i am now
or, by doing nothing
would have i become a piece of nothing
and that's all i could be?

I am searching a way to criticize nothing, based on something, without any real purpose. Only with the intention to cause confusion, for the simple freedom to say what one thinks.