I write. When you have inspiration, you don't have to block it. It's like blocking a raging river, an erupting volcano, a band of protesters during what can be called a revolution.
We all lead a life that sooner or later will have to undergo analysis. This can be defined as the right moment, indeed the perfect moment, that is the night.
I stop, I look outside, the night upsets me too much. These stars are too beautiful. The sun goes down and thoughts rise. I think the night is the sweet spot for everyone.
Wise friend and kind adviser and at the same time despair of insomnia and unexpected nightmares. The night.
I am writing by interrupting myself very often, making many full stops, leaving what should be obvious and obvious slightly in suspense. But that's how it is at night.
You want to clarify, wriggle between your problems and your paranoia but she makes you a barrier of stars, engulfs you in her luminous shadow and takes you into her galaxy.
He puts a full stop and removes that strange squiggle that makes up the question mark. It ends your hopes and fuels them at the same time.
He does some strange things tonight.
God, thank you for having created the night, a forbidden and inaccessible place for those who do not dream and a place of enchantment and wonder for free minds. For brave, bold and fearless spirits.
Give me strength tonight too.
Tonight I know that you are my friend, sweet darkness, cradle me and put me to sleep, take the reins of my life and take me far where no one knows.
Make me yours and make me a star because I want to shine and bring peace.
I confess that I hold my heart between the sunsets,
split in two,
created as a single center,
divided by suns and moons
of another galaxy.
I confess that I am not in my bones, that I have no body, my breath is distorted by opposite impulses
to the immortal nature.
I confess that I have edges outside the body, between the clouds and the stars.
Knots in the throat.
Desires left in the red veins.
Pulsation.
Danger of melting into so much universal love.
The fundamental problem of humanity for 2000 years has remained the same .. love each other. Only now it has become more urgent, much more urgent, and when we hear again today that we must love each other, we know we don’t have much time left now. We always love too little and too late. Let us hurry to love. Because at the sunset of life we will be judged on love. Because there is no wasted love, and because there is no greater emotion than feeling when we are in love that our life totally depends on another person, that we are not enough for ourselves. And because all things, but also inanimate ones, such as mountains, seas, roads, but more, more, the sky, the wind, more, the stars, more, the cities, the rivers, the stones, buildings, all these things which in themselves are empty, indifferent. Suddenly when we look at them they are charged with human meaning and fascinate us, move us, why? .. Because they contain a presentiment of love, even inanimate things, because the planking of all creation is love and because love matches the meaning of all things. Happiness, yes, happiness, speaking of happiness, look for it, every day, continuously, indeed anyone who listens to me now is looking for happiness now, in this moment because it is there, you have it, we have it , because they gave it to all of us. They gave it to us as a gift when we were little, they gave it to us as a dowry, and it was such a beautiful gift that we hid it, like dogs with bones do when they hide it, and many of us do. they hid it so well they don’t know where they put it, but we have it. You have it, look in all the closets, the shelves, the compartments of your soul, throw everything away, the drawers and the bedside tables that you have inside and see that it comes out, there is happiness, try to turn around suddenly you might catch her by surprise but she is there, we must always think about happiness, and even if she sometimes forgets us, we must never forget her. Until the last day of our life, and we must not be afraid even of death, look that it is more risky to be born than to die eh .. we must not be afraid of dying, but never begin to really live, jump into existence now, here.
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?
Dull star on the tip of an incandescent heartbeat. Tears of sleep on the edge of your dissolved head. Liquid glass prisoner of the sins of wax. Immobile and insane. Paralyzed by negative outcomes. Interior. Memories of homes lived in. Dusty fingers. Fingers of disappointed child. Your kingdom smells like summer jasmine paradise. Your kingdom is the childhood past. Postcards and postage stamps detached. You are the master of lost words. The pocellana of each of your inner places has the wounds of angels. The skies are the result of a farewell to the horizons. Interior. Returns. Crumbled taxes. Magical soups. The dead zone of the darkened mind. Alcoholic dementia. Forget the years. The schools. Mental calculations. You have filtered out every music of your pain. Violins sing under your bed. The removed dust settles again. The fingertips leave fingerprints. Loose and redone glasses. Stained glass windows and unlit prayers. If you wait for the fire, you become ashes.
It is literally bad to feel strong and weak to be happy and sad after a few seconds. Dreaming of things that you know that cannot be there and realizing that sooner or later there is an end for everyone, and you can not do anything but accept it. I would like to have no thoughts, have no emotions, be a stone, which with the arrival of the rain everything slips away. But how do you, how can you not think of something bigger than you, you can hide it from your eyes, but after a while it comes back, always there. If the sun hides the wounds, the night brings them back to the surface, and you can do nothing but let yourself be carried away. But what is the meaning of writing, what is the meaning of life, if in the end we are only memories You wonder if it makes sense to spread your own being, or to stay in your own small way, but what life is it if you don’t bring a little of yourself into the world? There is no need to escape, but if everything is rowing against you, where do you find the strength to fight? Let yourself be carried away by life, or take it in hand? It is as if I have understood all the mechanisms, all that remains of life, but then why am I here? Open the windows, let the sun in, listen to the bells ring, listen to the noises, take a breath, don’t think and live in the presentThis is what people do not understand about me, I am not satisfied, I dream. Because despite having met false, slimy people, real snakes, I still believe in friendship, the real one, the one that saves you. Because despite having lived through toxic relationships, or not very serene and sometimes almost one-sided, I still believe in love, the one that shakes your heart, that reactivates you, that makes you be born a second time, in that complicit and crazy love. Because despite the falls I still believe in the strength to get up, alone, or holding someone’s hand. Because although the world sucks I still believe in the beauty that is in it, just sit and watch a sunset to find the energy of life. Because although life is hard, I still believe that it is worth living it. And maybe yes, I really dream, but I’m not satisfied eitherIt hurts me to think that there will be someone else who will wait with the same anxiety with which he was waiting for me. It hurts me to think that his happiness will depend on someone other than me. It hurts to think that that “exaggeration” we always talked about has gradually vanished. To think that there will be another person in your place, to think that he will be able to give her everything you gave her and maybe much more, what she is looking for, what she had always sought in the end, to think that someone will give her that dress that so much she liked it, who knows if she will know the same things she was telling me, maybe she’ll like another dress rather than the white one she fell in love with, and she’ll forget a little bit how that dress, which will come back to her only if she finds the photo she had taken of him scrolling back through the gallery. Yet I know that he will not delete that photo, he will keep it, maybe he will smile when he sees it again and maybe he will keep it a little longer than the other old photos on the screen, after all he wanted it, after all he had dreamed of it in the past. It will hurt when mine is no longer the arm she liked to lean on when she was lying on the bed, it will no longer hurt me the little voice of a child that made her seem smaller and made her so beautiful every time. And it still makes it that way, it’s beautiful yes. There will no longer be a messy bed in my house after coming to see me, there will be no smile that looked at me as if I were her only salvation, and someone else will take my place, take my chair at her kitchen table , she will leave someone else the blue chair in her office where she let no one sit, no one but me, and made me feel important, now she will make someone else feel important. All good things come to an end. But she will be happy, and this is the important thing. And this.The dream is a defense against the regularity and monotony of life, a recreation of bound fantasy, where it throws all the images of life into the air and interrupts man’s perennial seriousness with a cheerful childish game; without the dream we will age prematurely, and therefore we can consider the dream, if not sent from above, still a pleasant task, a friendly companion on the pilgrimage to the tomb.Dear ice eyes girl that have nothing celestial, but however frozen they surpass the ice and they are cold albeit chocolate colored. Dear sad eyes girl, I wanted to tell you to shine again not to lose yourself in thinking of those who do not think of you not to get lost in order to wait for those who wanted to lose you. Dear dark eyes girl you will learn to grow to live with fear and make it your strength and your care as well. You will learn that grownups never cry, but that tears are used to let off steam to regain strength to start over to get up stronger albeit a little stunned. You will learn to go to fly to fall, and then get up again to turn off only to then return to shine stronger. Dear hurricane girl that you never stop dreaming that alone you can always do it but you want someone by your side because together we dance better and together it is better you read a lot and travel too much that music is your world and books are your place that a beautiful sentence underline it in red with pencil a straight line unlike your life which is always an infinite curve and also uphill that you change your mood easily according to the steps of your Love based on a smile of hers and his smile that puts a smile on your face. that you have big eyes and the gorgeous smile that you want to hear your heart beating fast because you want to live strong because you want to live for real. Dear girl woman, I wanted to tell you to start shining again, because you are not the disappointment of this world but the disappointment is this world which has lost its values which is a meaningless world where now only what is not needed counts – superficiality, of course. I wanted to tell you to shine again like a shining star to shine alone without needing someone to turn you on, because the real music of this world it’s you, just you and that’s it. Don’t be discouraged, do not stop do not change do not stop dreaming: go, run, shine take everything you deserve and shine, you always shine, because they will teach you not to shine they will discourage you because they are envious they will extinguish you because they are jealous of your light, but you don’t listen to them. You shine.
But what if instead of photographing the sunsets, we tried to write them? He is one of those who, crumpling the day, it seems to carry with it the promise of an evening at least as beautiful and if it disappoints you, you get angry like a panther. One of those sunsets that promises to take with you flocks of stars and rain like that perfect evening ten years ago in a remote mountain village me, him and no one else with a love just popped up to skate on an ice that is hotter than that there you go water skiing. But I tell you that for me tonight that one does not lie. I sign him a surety on the fly. Because on the promise of this up front a good one will write about sixty magnificent verses but someone like me he just wants you to sit next to him hug you one by one and tell you: I’m not writing anything to you tonight but if you want something beautiful we show you him and me, because if you promised it such an evening it means that a little we deserve it, and maybe Just for today she deserves us too.And I don’t know if it’s going to be the two of us. I don’t know if we will watch all the most beautiful sunsets at the sea together. I don’t know if we’ll envy the world or won’t envy anyone. But I know that those black eyes of yours, those fucking black eyes are the most powerful calamity of all.I am breathing the colors of this wonderful sunset: warm tones, poetry, suggestion, thoughts. In this place the sun can only hide in this way and the reddish shades seem to come alive waiting for the sky to shine with stars. There are 7 billion people in the world right now. someone is running away scared. someone is coming home. someone tells lies to get through the day. someone else is facing the truth. 7 billion people in the world. 7 billion souls. and sometimes all you need is just one.Watching the sunsets calms me down a lot. It makes me feel at peace with myself, and calms my thoughts. We see sunsets every day, yet they are always all different and uniquely magnificent. I want to live like a sunset: to change constantly, always remaining the same and surprising everyone.She saw scurrying around as a child with mum when clinging to her hand we walked around and I filled her head with a thousand questions. He saw me as a little girl sitting thinking with headphones and music overhanging every thought. He saw me on summer nights and admiring every sunset as if it never ended. He saw me change every day step by step, kilo by kilo. It gave me beauty when I needed it. For me just for me.You have changed so much, and maybe that’s right. but you changed for the wrong reasons, for the wrong people. the disappointments they always had this effect on you, they change you inside, and maybe you have become the right person thanks to a person terribly wrong.How many have we been through How many have we been through in this simple park, always sitting on the usual bench. Whether it was afternoon or evening, this was the meeting point, and we didn’t care about the cold or the too hot, we were enough. Turning left I find the swing and I remember the feeling of my face illuminated by the sun as you pushed me from behind. If I look ahead instead, the trees illuminated by Christmas lights. Do you remember when we first found everything decorated? It didn’t seem real to us: such an unknown and abandoned place made magical anyway by some good soul. We started chasing each other like two children, then on the 25th morning we decided to exchange our gifts right here: both a perfume, what a fantasy! Yet I still have it, as well as the heart-shaped card that was there together (badly cut). I still have it and I smile at the idea of having it in my hands. And then the night we saw the shooting star? I’ve never seen one before. And when did we take pictures? When I filmed you on my cell phone because I needed to remember you forever smiling. And about that time when I couldn’t stand and you always grabbed me on the fly Do you remember? Now I’ll tell you a secret: the first few times I seriously stumbled because I was too drunk since I couldn’t handle two drops of alcohol, but all the others were made on purpose because it was too good to find myself in your arms. I could write a book about what we went through in a few months, about the emotions you gave me. Today I curse myself for leaving you without a real and good reason because after two years I have not found anyone like you. Today I’m on the usual bench, as usual I arrive first. You are always late, so I smoke my cigarette and wait to hear the sound of your footsteps making the fallen leaves creak. I turn to the right but this time you are not there. You’re gone. this simple park, always sitting on the usual bench. Whether it was afternoon or evening, this was the meeting point, and we didn’t care about the cold or the too hot, we were enough. Turning left I find the swing and I remember the feeling of my face illuminated by the sun as you pushed me from behind. If I look ahead instead, the trees illuminated by Christmas lights. Do you remember when we first found everything decorated? It didn’t seem real to us: such an unknown and abandoned place made magical anyway by some good soul. We started chasing each other like two children, then on the 25th morning we decided to exchange our gifts right here: both a perfume, what a fantasy! Yet I still have it, as well as the heart-shaped card that was there together (badly cut). I still have it and I smile at the idea of having it in my hands. And then the night we saw the shooting star? I’ve never seen one before. And when did we take pictures? When I filmed you on my cell phone because I needed to remember you forever smiling. And about that time when I couldn’t stand and you always grabbed me on the fly Do you remember? Now I’ll tell you a secret: the first few times I seriously stumbled because I was too drunk since I couldn’t handle two drops of alcohol, but all the others were made on purpose because it was too good to find myself in your arms. I could write a book about what we went through in a few months, about the emotions you gave me. Today I curse myself for leaving you without a real and good reason because after two years I have not found anyone like you. Today I’m on the usual bench, as usual I arrive first. You are always late, so I smoke my cigarette and wait to hear the sound of your footsteps making the fallen leaves creak. I turn to the right but this time you are not there. You’re gone.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 