MORNING SHADOWS

Shadows behind my back,
they give human thrills of presence that I took my breath away. They all crowd to get my attention
and in the meantime they swallow my words.
Greedy,
marauders,
they play as if they were killer dolls.
They look for my pulsations,
vibrations,
lively feelings to make them crowns of thorns.
I open dull books and they immediately come out as actors from a distant past.
They want to sigh again,
whisper secret things to me,
make me forget the morning sun.
You swing big through the light,
but in the dark you disappear.
Follow every movement unable to resist,
silent and dark.
If you had the opportunity, how many things would you say? Muta, do your job,
accompanying me everywhere.
You are part of me even if elusive,
I have you but I don’t possess you.
I see you but you cannot do the same,
I would like to tell you many things but your ears would not perceive the sound of my voice.
Sometimes people can become shadows too,
you know?
People are afraid of the night. He is afraid of the dark. They believe that nothing can be seen in the dark. “Dark is dangerous: you never know what it can hide,” they say. But they don’t know that the darkness actually hides nothing. In the night the masks fall, the shadows vanish and only what it really is remains. I am afraid of the day, of the light. Because it makes you believe that you are safe, but you are surrounded by shadows, by masks worn out of fear, by repressed feelings, by hidden pains. How much strength does it take to look at the truth when it is not hiding?
We need light and its emanation, without it we do not exist, the shadows, even if so dark, prolong and outline the hidden part of being. Know how to choose your sun, so that your shadow is the brightest part of you. When the sky is gray the world becomes gray and you in it too. Yet, once you pass the clouds, you find yourself in the hidden world that you did not see from the window, you find yourself in front of an infinite white and soft ocean that acts as a separé from the real world. And thinking about this, you begin to look among those few glimpses that allow you to see beyond the clouds and, imagine flying, flying and flying, going higher and higher, beyond the roofs of the houses, above the lights of the city, and beyond above the clouds, and then begin to caress that hidden sky, which until the gray ocean appeared above your head, you didn’t even realize existed.

HIDDEN SOUL

Unfortunately, the thing that unites all of us dreamers is the fact that we always wait for something to happen without ever doing anything to make it happen. We are always there, thinking, “I just have to wait. Sooner or later I will be happy. Sooner or later there will come that thing that will change my life, that will upset it. ” Yes, I said well, I used the word “upset” because, let’s face it, we all expect something to arrive that upsets the monotony of our life. Everyone, including me. And because of that, I’m missing out on the best years of my life. They insulted me, they tried to kill me inside, they used me, they pretended to love me, they beat me and trample me. Wasted effort, I’m still standing.
I’m the right brain.
I am creativity.
A free spirit.
I am passion.
Wish.
Sensuality.
I am the roaring sound of those who laugh.
I am the taste.
The feeling of sand under your bare foot.
I am movement.
Bright colours.
I am the urge to paint on the naked canvas.
I am limitless imagination.
Art.
Poetry.
I guess.
I hear.
I am everything I wanted to be.
The truest part of me is in the impulses I control,
in the emotions I hold back, in the thoughts I hide,
in the things I don’t say.
They are not for everyone, they are for those who can look inside me.
I am the cry of the blood in the glass of the sea,
I am a fever of the air, of the flower,
I am a leaf, a great funnel for the black nectar. I am welcome to new havens.
I am a flame,
seeking its drop of water,
it sinks,
but remains liquid inside the earth.
they are a mixture of various parallel directions,
different trains, tears mixed with private joys,
I’m the green grass,
fox and bird,
I dare to challenge every hunt,
I am inside the battles of the heart,
no way out,
no trembling,
no hesitation.

MYSTERIA LANE

On the second floor of my building lives a couple of elderly gentlemen. I have no idea what his name is, but I have often heard him refer to her as "Dear Rosina". I met them on the stairs and before greeting me with big smiles, I saw them come down arm in arm, slowly, patiently. I thought of Montale, how he was able to paint the same scene with all the love he felt for his partner who was no longer there. As a child, I dreamed of great achievements, distant journeys, a fire lit in a house that I could call mine. Now I just hope to be able to grow old with a man next to me who looks at me as my neighbor looked at his Rosina, step by step.
There is a gentleman on the third floor of my building. He is a very robust man on the verge of obesity. However this is hardly visible due to its height. I got to know him from the very beginning of my arrival in this building thanks to his desperate, angry screams, at mealtimes, addressed to a woman who in my fantasies I assume was the very old mother. I then got to know him physically from the peephole of my door since, throughout the quarantine, couriers arrived to deliver packages to the latter. Everyday. Every day more and more out of breath from step to step. Always the quarantine then, he introduced me to Paola, the neighbor across from my building, who asked me if I too heard the cries of this man and then informed me that a few months earlier the one who confirmed me to be his mother died. The mother of this man.
There are those people you would like to get rid of for good.
Like the guy who, no matter how many times you've told him, continues to park his car on your private parking lot; or the neighbor who every Sunday morning starts drilling the walls, which also makes you doubt that his house has now become a gruyere, who will never have to drill, no one knows. Or the classic annoying relative you see once every three months, and in that one time he is able to get you a real third degree about boyfriends / study / work, and he can't understand that in those three months things haven't changed much, and the only thing you want to tell him is to shut the damn mouth.

Or the classic friend - or friend, of your choice - of the person you're with. The nice friend who doesn't have to put in much effort to be a bitch, because she was born with this talent, and she is also very good at smashing the so-called with her presence.

Well, unfortunately, we cannot get rid of these people. Not by legal means, at least. But looking at them with a smile and sending them straight to fuck can be seriously rewarding.
Under my window I hear the neighbors' child. his name is like me and in these days of isolation he often plays in the garden, helps his mother to make the vegetable garden and plant the seeds. she has never been too patient, yet now there is a whole new cure in the gestures that are repeated, from the soil that falls into the pot to the attention with which she takes care that each plant has its right amount of sun. when time expands, more attention can be paid, more kindnesses can be granted. "I would like to know only when it will end" the little girl lets slip and this is what we are all asking ourselves a bit, between worry and the days that repeat themselves. then her mum takes her by the hand and helps her to wet the earth with the watering can, I look at them from above with the cat and I think that all we can do is just that, keep the soil ready and take care of the seeds.
But I still carry dance inside. He forged me, he taught me to measure myself with my strength, with the need for order. It is to her that I owe the discipline I work with. It was hard to have to leave, but it was my driving force and it still is. "
Dusting off old photos ... A past life between spikes, tutu, hall, shows and theaters ... Infinite sadness for letting go of the only thing that can make me really happy. 
I don't think I'm an excellent girlfriend. I have my mood swings. I have my fixes. I have my flaws. I try to restrain myself, not to seem psychopathic, not to make tragedies. I'm good at being strong. Then I burst out for a trifle, as if it were the most important in the world. And I'm a child, sometimes. Stubborn. I get angry about something and can't think of anything else for the next three days. I'm drastic, I don't know half measures. With me or without me. Right or wrong. In or out. There are no ajar doors, only locked doors and keys thrown into the void. There is no going back. I am emotional, instinctive. I let go of people I needed just out of pride. I held back people who didn't deserve me just for hope. I am romantic. I cry in front of a movie and get excited by small thoughtful gestures. I write love letters that I will never have the courage to read aloud. I pay attention to details. I'm a perfectionist, sometimes hysterical. I am far from the idea of ​​perfection. But I love so much. I love with all my strength, no ifs and buts. I love with every single part of my body. I love so much that I have stomach cramps, other than butterflies. And even if my loving so much started to wear me out, I'd let it.

THE SECRETS OF MY FRIENDS

When I have a friend I tell everything to him/ her but I’ve seen that he/ she has secrets for me. He/ she doesn’t tell me everything.My friends are strange people and I don’t see them that often they visit the day like iguanas and the night they forget where they parked. They do jobs that you don’t understand they always have their phones dead and in the eyes the eyes when they built houses with the sofa cushions. To recognize ourselves we open shells that make a flash, we find them in our pockets without knowing it. My friends laugh like water and they broke a thousand lives to get here they have unscrewed the spiral of galaxies drank beer with the angels and they say it was a coincidence. But I know that they have come to empty the deposits of weeping to show a heart that sings beyond the balconies of sleep.
There are certain friendships that are destined to end. Without regrets, without rancor. Only awareness of something that was there before and is no longer there. They are those friendships, which leave you that light melancholy of pleasant memories, which have not left too much mark. That you will remember in the strangest moments, wondering what happened to that person, but without the bitterness that the loss of a true friendship can leave you. That will make you greet that person on the street with a smile but no, it won’t make you stop talking. They are those friendships that are created in a short time and crumble in even less, that without realizing it slip away from your hands, until all of a sudden you realize you don’t know anything about that person anymore. And it doesn’t hurt the loss, because it’s so gradual that it almost comes naturally. They are those friendships that will remain forgotten in a secret diary or in a photo album of your adolescence. And it will be like losing one of the many clothespins that no, it’s not your favorite.
It was a long painful time, because she wasn’t there. When she disappeared from my life, my world was empty and my dark times got worse … I remember when I was at the lake watching the sunset and wondering why all this was happening, why I lost you, why you weren’t here by my side. After months and months, I got over everything and my heart closed, it was all right in a way. Then you came back and my life went back to being like many months ago, I was fine again, I didn’t understand why but it was going much better than “all right” … And it was strange. Until then we started talking to each other again and there I understood after weeks why … Because you were and have remained the most important person in my life, which gives me an absurd purpose and relief, where all the pain dissolves and disappears. You are the best friend I could ever want and have by my side … Watching the sunset and thinking that tomorrow will be a new day next to you, just makes me understand how much I have to fight to be able to meet you one day and hold you in my arms. It will be the greatest joy of my life, to see you and hug you … Fuck how good it would be … I can’t stop smiling at the thought … Imagine how important you are to me.

MY HAUNTED HOUSE

I think my house is full of bad things and I have a schizophrenic neighbor and I think her negative energy after years is building up passing into my house and I don’t know how to do it. I tested the jar with vinegar and salt, dissolved in water, in the attic and it solidified. So there is certainly something. My house is built on a battleground. Besides, the owners are dead there. The first few years things were going well but bad things have been happening since last year. The thing is, I also dated a negative person who I found out was an energy vampire and maybe he put something in here when he came to my house. Or he left us something. I’m cleaning the whole house with vinegar and salt. I also put stones and crystals around. Burned incense. I took a bath with whole salt. But will all this help? Or do I really have to move house? It seems to me that there are now stagnant energies here. I cannot unlock many situations. Do I have to do other things?. I am not religious. I only believe in good and bad energies

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