Hysteria

I didn t wanted to hang up the phone.

I woke up screaming, blinded

irrational light shaping randomness

in my sleep: there s only loneliness

i didn t wanted to stop

his highway voice while

the face remain silent, like a

usless pantomime standing still

when the stage is empty

I woke up, hysterical

without knowing this we

was another anatomy

nutured for our cement city

i didn t wanted to stop talking

just because my heart was breaking

in millions different colored shades

i had lived through

and i thought

the sky gets darker too rapidly

for my love to see

or even for me

to remembeber why i

did grow colder and felt happier

in silent transparency

and the fear is always here

doesn't even need a reason

it lives within it's own passion

repetition: the letters remain unwritten

too many cigarettes to keep compagny

to these sleepless thoughts without mercy

so the body shakes like a dance

a forgotten moves shared only

in intimacy

when the world stop is hysteria

and calm help us to see

we run fast when we' re supposed to be

to early for what is yet unborn

in those early morning mourn

there is still time to smile

as the surface: we are

even the truth can be a liar

sometimes

in nights like this

i wish i wouldn't hang up the phone

some words are always a home

but maybe it is time

to leave the safety

of irrationality.

Picture: Nancy Holt

LEFT- a hand inside the night

I remember

You left blood on my finger

and

the ring wasn't even silver

as i thought it was at first

Reflected by opalescent

descending skies

It wasn't even silver

but made off

dry mud and broken dust

STILL

It was so dark when we

loved each other

so deep in this

silent encounter

I remember

You left one

single sound

to cover me all

Your kiss was the end

of a sun who on this land

never raised

You were the blanket

in my eyes

sparkling lonliness

in a quiet lie

you said:

we always need some green

mixed with tangerine

because we need

to imagine

sometimes the beauty

we never see

around our grey heartless

curves and highways

STILL

that finger is mine

despite my hollowness am fine

I remember you

smiling

while everyone else were sinking

you left a hand

inside the night.

Picture: unknown source

The Heavy Outline Before The Storm

The heavy outline before the storm

is putting to bed the petals, thorn

like little worn

the nest got curtains weaving

like the weather's music

on a calm evening

sunday burns the past ashtray

from one future smile to

crying yesterdays

it has fake its way

through sleeping awake

at a lover's ache

movement

clouds are low in their commitment

promising a new day

filled with wonder

their outline always cover

what is about to happen

and the wind make atonement

for all these shapes left apart

dancing dissonant

in the immensity of ignorance

in a eye close from its essence

the transparency of exponential

delight

stretching fingers grabbing mine

who is now evaporating

on a slow movement

the heavy outline before the storm

dancing dissonant

carried me home

Painting: Leonor Fini

Cutting Pieces Off The Moon

My hands hurts from writing thoughts i never send

i ve been cutting the moon

collecting pieces from the face i recall

am wondering in your room

like a ghost perpetually banging on the wall

I never thought i ll remain so much like cutting pieces

you are what hasn’t happen to me yet

while am perpetually the news from yesterday

and in your bed i always lay

my eyelash hurt from blinding myself

constantly

on my true intention

your voice is pulsing, your hands under tension

you love my neck while am collecting pieces

of the bones i hear cracking

melting in nights on sale

listening the rhythms going insane

My mouth ache from shaping words who hurts

cutting some part of the sky i wish

to collect for decorate

your dream’s corner

but you moan like a hooker

a distorted pleasure from

some still open wound

you collect pieces i never meant to offer you

and you box them in pride cause you own the nights

and what we drink are ancient knights

floating perpetually from

one frame to another

you never looked so familiar

than when i forget you, reshaping the taste of

everything who passes through

an obsessive

organ that never stop playing

constant stories who never happened

My feelings hurts from being filled with void

there is no bridge made with broken silence

you walked through desert streets dress up with indifference

while i have a glance on

my outline standing next to you

i don t want you, never did

i was just cutting pieces when you walked through

and now it feels like we are stitched

to yesterday’s sheets

i don t wanna see the morning who lays at my fits

offering is unmade body to my urge to escape from it

from you, from the scissors you took away

cutting pieces of the moon

that s when i think of you

Still: Georges Méliès

Be The Morning You Awake In

The distances are replace by faces

and places by unoccupied memory.

Safe in the moon,conquest idle frame of morning

glory while some others are

tired.

Am tired

Tired to wait

Tired to wait for you

Tired to be awaited by you

While time,exponential cries for these

late yesterdays

yesterday was an unmade bed

yesterday was a dream, a common one we

all already seen

One thousand times

One thousand miles

we were there,on stage, i remember

the room was filled up with moving

walls

Love self suffocate on is rotten sunday's suits.

Storys are cars trapped in endless traffic

the fragility of smiles techni-city

the fragility of smells we remembered

trapped

all the bodys i knew

in a replaced space they never seen before

A reproduction of words we constantly throw

at each other

Oh,i know, dry tears never wrote a letter

and as a matter

of fact

we did never

interact

the distance is replace

by a geometric act

at a smile's corner

We're all maintain in places we made

to pleasure ourselves

and walk over the prisme of

broken songs

Is it not nice?

When all those lights are over?

I love it

I love you

am gone

crawling in

day out

be the morning

you awake in

Picture: Sujimoto