It seems that you change your mind overnight, as if out of madness and, instead, in the night it is another self that speaks and gives advice. As if by strange magnetism, then, I know I have found my reasons. Without thinking too much. Without many words. For enlightenment that seems madness but is a form of consciousness that irrevocably whispers, without accepting others no. So I make my own decisions. The night. It seems strange that these seize me at night without me doing anything, nor asking for them. Indeed, just when I stop the tortuous thinking, my unexpected truths capture me with an unusual certainty that I would not have known how to have at other times of the day. And it is precisely this being unexpected that makes them certain. Because they catch me defenseless and I can only give up.
I have seen so many ugly realities, so much blood, violence, children growing up without parents, appreciating the value of freedom, knowing how painful it is when they take it away from you. Here I have always seen a lot of love, loyalty, family, humility, education. I had to know what I can go up against on the one hand to understand that there are those who have fought so much to ensure that I can be free forever. I know where I’m from but I also know who I can be. You have seen certain things only in movies, yet you sin of presumption and rudeness continuously. I looked into your eyes and listened to you talk about your fears, your goals and your past, I watched your reactions as I talked to you about me and the period of shit I’m going through, but although I know things you haven’t said no one else thinks of her before sleeping, because she is sweet and unlike me in bed with you she came immediately. I’m 24 and I’ve always wondered what my biggest secret is, in short, everyone has one right? I also have mine, but finding something that only I knew, something that I had never really told anyone, not even the closest people, seemed difficult to me, and in short, nothing that could boast of the importance of this name! But tonight I understood it and it’s as if I saw myself inside, it was such a bad thing that I probably didn’t want to think about it, convincing myself that it wasn’t and almost forgetting.Luna doesn’t just show your best side You look great alone you know what love is ” “Luna, you only speak to those in love Who knows how many songs they have already dedicated to you ” The best way to start this post is by quoting some lines from Gianni Togni’s song ‘Luna’ A song about love even if hidden behind the apparent description of the moon shining in the night sky This post is aimed to all those who at least once raised their eyes to the night sky and enchanted themselves in observing the stars, thought without even realizing it of a special person to all those who have imagined that at the same time that person was observing the sky and it does not matter if physically close or far away to all those who have confided their greatest secrets and desires to the moon to all those who, with a full moon, return a little child to the memory of stories or television series in which the moon was the main part of the plot To all of us romantic dreamers. I wanted to tell you that more than once I have listened to songs thinking of you and I wondered if you think of me too when you listen to that song Sometimes you enter my mind without asking permission messing everything up Sometimes they ask me why you who were the least suitable person I don’t know how to answer him I think about you, even if I don’t want to And I would like to throw away your memory I think of the thousand ways it could have ended But in the end I think it was better for both of us to get lost.After all we are scorpions. We love death, we symbolize rebirth, we must die ourselves to get up again. We scorpions look so small and cute, but we know how to sting and sometimes we don’t even do it intentionally. We are the governors of the mystery, we live by this, we live by curiosity and magic. Of shadow and fog. This darkness pervades us. We are intuition, sixth sense, sensations. We are revenge and passion, because we have feelings that swim in deep waters, they are never superficial. This sometimes makes us suffer terribly and we prefer to take our pain out on ourselves. Everyone considers us the most insidious, grumpy and “ugly” zodiac sign. The truth? We like to hear it and laugh because we are the mystery you haven’t solved yet. I wish that at 23:59 you could shout what you want to people especially those to whom we do not have the courage to say the simplest and most beautiful phrases like i love you, i love you, i stay this year too … for the simple fear of ruining everything. Here if we could do it at that time it would be easier because they are all drunk, they are all high, maybe people do not even listen and therefore you would not be afraid of losing someone just because you reveal your feelings to them. you feel about him or her. Instead it is not feasible and you are left with the weight on your stomach or heart. Because people remember why unfortunately we don’t have a year cancel button even if we wanted to. In a year there is a lot of bullshit in love, in friendship, at school and in the family but if we had the possibility to reset everything it would be better but we do not pass from one year to another but from one simple day to another, we pass from 23:59 to 00:00 to 00:01 celebrating changes that we hope will come true like magic, changes that, however, if we don’t roll up our sleeves and keep fighting, they won’t come true.
Roses are red, blood is red, love is red. Happiness is clothed in thorns, it can be reached, embraced, with the crucifixion clause. The harder you push, the harder it sticks to you, and the blood gushes. Happiness is an elite created by those who self-destruct to give it to others. A cosmic equilibrium is destroyed in order to create, one loves in order to die, to the point of dying. Eros and Thanatos go hand in hand. There are still entities that prefer to harm themselves rather than those they love. They can be considered weak, but others do not know how much strength it takes not to open the Pandora’s box that is hidden behind a pair of eyes, they do not know how much awareness exudes from the skin. What awareness? The awareness of the power used to protect, which if released would cause a massacre with no survivors. An awareness that bleeds inside, behind a smile, without anyone noticing, or at least almost anyone. The blood gushes, and nobody pays any attention to it. And that’s right, for balance. For the world. There is a part of me that you don’t know, and it’s not my fragility, it’s that part that at some point reminds me of what I’ve been through, that makes me recognize your lies, that tells me when it’s time to move on , who does not stop saying that the first place will never be yours, because it is already occupied by me. You wouldn’t even understand it by trying on this part that you don’t see, so you will continue to call it insanity.
An innocence stained by a dark past. I can still hear the devil whispering wicked advice into my ear. My heart gradually became corrupted until it became a black hole. All that remains of me is a ravenous monster, haunted by a visceral desire to harm someone. The stomach quivers, eager to taste the taste of blood. The hands tremble with a knife, while gently brushing the delicate skin with the sharp blade, fully enjoying every moment. The cries of pain are music to my ears; an intoxicating melody that inhibits the senses. It is an iniquitous and malicious gesture, the fruit of a mind devoid of sense and a soul infected by the evil one. It takes little to shatter such fragile bones. With one creak after another I reduce you to dust, a putrid mass of dreams and hopes shattered under the weight of my shoes. There are those who would hope for a faster death, but you beg for torment; the more harm I inflict on you the more you ask for and I gladly grant you an atrocious end, because it wouldn’t be fun if you finished too quickly. Ah, the harm I could do to you if I only wanted to. In this sensitive and naive world it is so easy to break such a delicate heart. But the part of you that is dying is only your innocence, because soon you will become like me: a vicious creature, stirred up by a blind rage to bring about extermination and desolation. How sweet is the taste of death on my lips, it is a kiss of Judas what I give you. I reach you with the promise of a love, but the gift you will get will be only that of regret.
SKULLS IN THE SKY SKY INSIDE THE SKY melt birds of color melt feathers inside the heart touched by mud we exist in a black kiss. we are the hidden moon. feel living underground seeds that will become skies. light fingers on the frost. we are warriors of the stars, we carry galaxies in our hearts. Forget the life inside the blood, we are the whole sky. my body was your queen my body was your mind. queen butterfly. I went underwater, I breathed, I got back up, I knew I was drowned. I am a strange form of water. I am liquid. What if the fire burns me?
Is it the blood that makes us the same? Does the blood relate to us? Do mother cells bind us or separate us? The ways out of a parasitic heart. The windows of the soul become opaque and without curtains. What does our existence prove if the value is given by fake smiles? The dark side of our biology. The pain of collapse. The taste of the night. The noise of an affection built from the unknown past. It was dawn when my heart stopped beating. nd a defibrillator did not and did not serve life. I was sorry to leave this planet. But I had become different. I had become a lonely man. Plants and birds kept me company. But I no longer had my mother Earth. no longer saw a grain of sand in my shoes. I was not honest with anyone. They asked me how I was and I always nodded. We who are love. We who are hate . We who are all things together , The worst and the best. We who are on the razor’s edge that does not cut. Which remains suspended above the sun. We who are good people. We are screwed by ourselves. We are not different and finite in infinite worlds. We are weird things stuck. We are the good and the bad. We are forgotten fibers. We ended up being divided. Seeds fall into the ground and do not grow. Seeds fall into rocks and grow. We are rocks that receive water and do not serode. We must always be alert to defend the world. nd spread our wings without anyone seeing them. We are Alpha and Omega without eyes. ( FAIRY QUEEN)
my dark side always stands out. it is a constant struggle. it sinks and resurfaces. you continue to breathe while remaining at the bottom of the sea. submerged in torment, chained to the passion that takes away a piece of me every day, I fight an existence of continuous death. a black blood flows in my veins, I tried to purify it, eradicate it, erase it from my every vein, from my every cell. but it always remained where it was, even when it seemed to disappear. Each time it regains the upper hand and holds me prisoner in its claws. The night is nothing, it is during the day that the atrocious suffering of being and not being at the same time begins. Like a crack in a well-programmed clock that has this little detail. I ride on the lost hours of my inhuman time and I lose myself in the shadows that are drawn in my secret garden. A little girl comes out of the past, brings flowers to a grave, and says her name is Ophelia. That little girl was me at the age of five, and I was reciting death on the Persian carpet at home. I soon appreciated the silence of certain places where the only living presence were the marble angels. The scent of rotten flowers followed my steps. I never felt so happy as my first time at the cemetery. Was that the paradise everyone was talking about? there you could stay like that, just as you were. He didn’t have to talk to anyone, he could sit and stay for hours with them, the stone angels. They whispered sweet words to me and I alone heard them. The candles fascinated me, I wanted to take them home, my mother scolded me, you can’t steal from the dead! She said. I was upset, for me they were the flames of their lost hearts and I wanted to keep them safe, in my home. Then, when I was finally grown up, I bought as many as I wanted and my room glowed with flames. They were so happy to me, people didn’t understand light, they thought they were candles of the dead and that was it. I miss the cemeteries. It has been a long time since I entered it anymore and nowhere have I found that silence again, perhaps only when my struggle ends will I be able to rest too and be just a stone angel. Art is a need. An instinctive need to create. An instinctive need to be and communicate one’s being to others. Affirming one’s existence with the creative act is the only way to live. Feeling such a force within oneself, an energy, an immense explosion, a storm that never settles down. A sea that is always stormy to its depths. Art is power. The power to create from nothing. giving life to what has never existed, which has never been seen, which has never been read. A sublime, divine, most perisolos power. Art feeds on souls. Art is insatiable, it is a ferocious demon, and whoever takes it is doomed and for all life seeks the escape route but one never gets rid of art. It is like a second skin and if you take it off, you skin down and you can’t live anymore. You have art in every cell, like a deadly virus, which never becomes a disease but which accompanies you throughout your life as a faithful travel companion. Art grinds your flesh, your spirit, your whole life. It crushes you and lifts you into the highest sky. you can see without eyes, hear without ears, draw without using your fingers. Art is a miracle of life and death. Whoever possesses the gift is condemned to a parallel life. You enter and exit as if through a window. We go in and out of ourselves, we feed ourselves to swine, we are left in pieces and then we start again. Who would ever want such a life? yet everyone envies us and do not know what it means to have the FIRE that consumes you!
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 