A LIE THAT IS EROS

You remind me of someone who
It never existed; the
Crazy dough, maybe it's in
That Lilith bed that I am
Misunderstandings were born: ha,
I have always known the truth
But lying to me does me less
Ache. I wish I could prove
That time is just an arrow;
What I see inside yours
Hands, sincerely: a
Fist of presumption and limits,
The ones I prefer not to know.
You know how dangerous it is
Give the signs more labels
Convenient: Call things with the
Their name, and from there you start again.
But, tell me why not even
In the answers it is possible
Find that kick that me
Stuns; I see myself, I am beyond
Myself, I would like to recognize myself.
I created I created
A roof a mirror
Conforming to fidelity, it is so opaque:
How long can I stay in this
Invisible shooting e
Survive my projections?
What I see in this balance on the world:
The garden let go.

Now I have only weight. I like,
But not always,
Being in control of things myself,
Know where to put your hands.
I touched you in that bed, and I have
Lied in not loving.
In the dark, with a little cold
Around: find myself in a
Bunch of mud, the gift that
Someone made me. I have it
Left to rot, but it always is
Dense. I'm in it.
What do I see inside the temptations:
A lie that is Eros
And engine of consciousness. I would like to
That becoming was simple
Becoming, and not a return on
Guilt. Nobody touches me. Support
The last glass on the carpet, in the
My test what you could
To be. "You have more things to tell yourself."
Yes, I would like to tell them all, but it is
More humane to enjoy the confusion:
Sometimes the suggestions arise on the
Street. I wish I was different
And yet they are just that: one
Consciousness that sees only the hand
Tapered, a new light, too many
Register for one story only.
What do I see inside your story: one
Mine who cannot leave.

ALL IS DONE

Sometimes, you’re right, I’m afraid to bloom. I am afraid to bloom because I fear that once I have blossomed you will think that your mission is complete and you will abandon me to my splendor. And I don’t want to look gorgeous except in front of your eyes. I don’t want those hands to stop caressing me, those eyes stop looking at me, those lips stop kissing me. I want your attention that makes me feel the queen of all roses, it is a desire that makes my soul vibrate and shine. Please grandma, come back to me. I need your love. I’m lost. Please pray for me. Grandma, I need your love.

EMOTIONAL CHAOS

  1. Never repress your emotions just because they make you feel guilty or think they are wrong. No emotion is wrong and if we feel it in us there is always a reason and the more we try to justify it rationally or avoid them we only do damage to ourselves because repression makes them come back to the surface and transform them into fears. Always be open to yourself, listen to yourself and always look inside yourself to understand if you are okay and don’t pretend yes when it is not so because you only hurt yourself and you will never be able to really know yourself. Love each other so much that you don’t feel guilty for trying certain things because we are human and we are not automatons. We are imperfect and it is so beautiful, we can make mistakes a lot of times and fix it anyway because there is no standard concept of perfection, it is only in our mind and often it will be for what we will feel wrong, but know that it is not so. It’s okay if you feel that way now and it’s okay to stop for a moment when you feel you are about to burst, try not to make it too late. Take your time and listen to yourself, do what you really want and leave everything else alone for a moment and you will see that your day will completely change.
I am not made for goodbye, for tight hugs, for thanks for everything, for promises made on the doorstep of the house or at the station, for gifts, given as a token, for languid looks. I’m not made for emotionally strong experiences. Better to do with me as you do with pets, which do not have the conception of the passage of time, better tell me: see you later, even if one will come back after months, or after a day or never come back.
It is in mornings like these, slow, full of thoughts, doubts and worries, while that light breeze blows, whipping the heat of the night just passed among a thousand torments, that you realize how much life for you has always been a whirlwind of disparate emotions, so many never have the time to elaborate them fully, dragging them along like a useless ballast. I will be too emotional, I will live too intensely what happens to me, I will also take too much to heart the problems of others putting them before mine, but I still firmly and despite everything believe that this is me, and I am fine with it. Of course, it would be good not to have gastritis nervosa, but that’s another story.
Sometimes being emotional is something totally negative for us. Think about when you love so much, that emotionality comes to cover everything, inducing us to think that your story has a continuity, that it can go on even if the person we love no longer reciprocates our feeling. On the contrary, it is something totally positive. When you feel like you’re dying for a kiss. When you take his hands and smile feeling your heart beat like never before. When you make love and feel a thousand emotions follow each other. When you get excited in front of a good book. When you get attached to a character, when you recognize yourself in it. As in everything there are positive and negative aspects, but what would we be without feelings?
I’m afraid of falling in love. To go back to feeling everything for someone who probably won’t feel anything for me. I’m afraid of taking risks, of putting my heart on the line once again. I’m afraid of turning these smiles into tears, I’m afraid of becoming attached to them and then being abandoned. I’m afraid of what I feel. Of that involuntary smile when I look at you, or of the most total confusion when I sink into your blue eyes. I’m afraid of falling in love again and at the same time I have a craving crowd. The desire that keeps me awake at night thinking of you, that desire to kiss you every smile and to be with you every second. I am afraid of when I am out and I look for you. I am afraid when I do everything to see you. I’m afraid when I look at you. I’m afraid, because I know I’m about to fall in love.

THE LADY’S PERVERTION

It was dark outside. I was getting changed to go out for dinner. I was almost in front of the window, because the mirror was between the two windows. Suddenly a red light out there grabs my attention. He is standing in the middle of the trees. I remain motionless. I know he is watching. He doesn’t want me to forget what happened, our years together, our perverse bond. He doesn’t want me to forget anything like he does. But he does it in a manic way. He keeps the memories of every second, every minute and every hour of his life in his inner filing cabinet. I rearrange my dress. I know he wants to see me shaken but I have to act like he’s not there. His love was not. It was control. I had the power but he wanted to control me from below. He now wants to see if I live happy. But he knows that I cannot be happy neither with him nor without him. The razor’s edge of our story was metal and dangerous. But he couldn’t imagine that I was really different from the others. What was dark in me he hadn’t seen well. This had been his failure. A Dark Lady is not that easy to spot and he hadn’t been able to grasp the details. When he realized he had lost the future with me it was already too late, I had decided his destiny and I had closed my heart forever. I was there, in my house, ate, went out, smiled and lived. He was there in the dark, without money and without a life. He was trying to still exist, to exist for me. Instead I existed for myself and I had broken his game. I had discovered his bluff. He no longer ate, no longer had a home, no longer had friends. He only had me. He lived only for me. Every night he stood there in that darkness that had created between us. And he saw me living without him. Sometimes I left the window closed. Sometimes I opened the curtains. I knew that his only life was there in my daily nothingness. His goal had always been to destroy me inside. Destroy my vital spark. But he couldn’t know about my destroying Demon. His was a fiction. But mine was real. By the time he realized the power of my mind, everything had already vanished from his hands.

%d bloggers like this: