solitary voyages

 

I miss you a lot, my angel, and since you have gone away the grip of the depression has caught me.

I miss the distractions just to not focusing my thoughts on you

Since I’ve lost any contact and who knows until when I have to wait for your return.

I look for you in the things I do, in the people I meet.

 Now I don’t want to hang you up in a cross, cheating you, harassing you in this and all the possible lives

Sometimes I don’t even know what I say.

And stop then. Stop talking.

Stop producing other work materials for psychologists or psychiatrists.

Where will I go with all their pretentions and assumptions

There’s no wrong in their opinions, always so different,

Everything is relative.

Everyone has its own idea

I don’t know any more who I should follow.

I decided: no one but myself.

This situation doesn’t seem having any rescue

Just God  listens to and watches harmless

I don’t think anymore. I ‘ve lost my skills of interpretation or whatsoever.

maybe because I don’t have anymore interest in what it’s happening all around me.

Moments of joy, moment of illusions, moments of dismay that slip away over my skin..

Just moments...therefore it would have to be much more simple overcoming it

Just moment,. Not an entire life.

Moments in which I dedicated myself too much in the search of something so high that seems to be impossible to be reached

But it doesn’t really is.

I don’t look for a new love.

I’m fed up with all this stuff.

Love is all around you, if you content yourself,

Of course never enough

But the noise...I cant stand it...I’m always trapped in bordels of confusion

Just moments

But I remain what I’ve always been.

Nothing changes in my mind.

I have my thought and I don’t want to change my advise with that of other people,

 as I’m the only person who truly understand me

No doctors, no scientists, no priests, no teachers, no friends.

Anyone can tell you what is wiser for you  but yourself.

Living alone it’s not easy.

I’d like to lose myself in a dream but I cant: the call for reality is much more urging

if you like it or not.

Nothing special to say, nothing special to rationalize....the same stuff of ever.

I look for you but I keep it secret on my own, hiding it also to myself.

By now you’re confined in the realms of the dreams to which I have sadly to renounce anyway

I will find maybe someday something that reaches enough  this level of aspiration.

By now, I limit myself to drink on it and that’s enough

to give the right thrills I need to survive in this so-called life  that you live like having the death inside

 and there’s no novelty in that. I perhaps  will never be so acquainted to the proper idea of joyfulness.

I ‘d like to fix an equilibrium upon it but I perfectly now that everyday life is so boring and useless.

 I don’t see any sense, any excitement to live as I do in the silence of my solitary room,

Where nothing changes...never...and just overwhelmed by ghosts  who speak to you and make you lose the contact with reality obliging me to live as a machine or a doll.

there’s something much more profound to which no one cant have access.

 But it’s also true that I have fed up with myself and, in the wait, for the azure prince coming or much more for a change,

you learn how nothing really matters.

Perhaps it’s true that we have to reshape our expectations, reducing them

but a man without dreams and hopes, it’s like a man never born.

 The mind produces thoughts but what would you do with all this exaggerated amount of ideas that are completely useless?

 nowhere is the solution.

 Be present at the moment, as I don’t know if I’ll have a tomorrow and what it will be.

 I’d like finding out something to dream about, some escape,

Lying over the uphills of my imagination

 but it’s hard to find one really.

Being skeptical is not on my chords.

Maybe it’s enough taking some light- weighted moments of breath,

 let you mesmerize by the beauty and the smiles,

the enthusiasm that surround you and leave you so unprepared to such a blessing.

I’ve been perfectly acquainted with the assumption that nothing is forever,

with all the agony that it may affect.

no solutions then, no chemical or neuronal  remedy for the surprise effect

that could destabilize you as it’s not in your habits,

 but maybe a real change is ongoing and it would be wonderful if I could find here my little California.

 I’m really full of fears for this voyage, honestly,

but I try to not linger on these thinkings,

and I’m eager to launch myself in a new, unrepeatable adventure and if even if I will ought to die,

it will be for the search of some utmost joy,

as my life has been so cruel for me so far. That’s it.

I’ll try to overcome my mental and physical limits under the shining light of the American sun.  

 

 

Dove va a finire il vento - Where the wind goes

 Vorrei sapere dove va a finire il vento,

io che lo rincorro a piedi scalzi e tremo,

che ci sospinge nei labirinti dei nostri cuori

e ci fa perdere la rotta della ragione.

Nell'abbraccio di un amico o nei fantasmi del passato?

Forse finisce laddove va a morire il pensiero.

Navigando nello spazio ho conosciuto te

internauti del cuore.

Vorrei sapere dove va a finire la scintilla di un amore perduto,

una storia che si ripete,

sovrastata dall'amarezza,

dimentica della gioia,

e la magia, l'effervescenza...

persi nel distacco e nella disillusione del ritorno

ad un ordinario rumorosamente destabilizzante

e nell'astinenza da quel calore ovattato e placentico,

da quel senso di totalità

che ci faceva bastare l'uno all'altro,

per cibarci solo di quei pochi ma intensi febbricitanti baci e candide carezze

a lungo agognati e sospirati.

Vorrei sapere che ne sarà di noi,

una volta che quella bolla d'amore

è esplosa al frastagliarsi di mille spine

e non c'è più quell'ìncantesimo che la rendeva integra

e la sorreggeva galleggiante nell'etere

sospinta da un flusso di misticità

che la rendeva infrangibile e splendente.

Vorrei sapere che ne sarà della bellezza

e dei ciclici germogli delle primavere dei cuori,

nel gelo di una neve che ci ha agghiacciato gli sguardi e gli istinti.

Passerà l'inverno ma sapremo attendere con fede

e preservare inalterati dei vaneggiamenti romantici?

Resta solo un senso di gentilezza sottile

nella sensibilità delle nostre fragili essenze

e il ricordo di una carezza sul viso 

che celava un'inespressa verità di passione e reciproche affinità recondite. 

Affinità elettive.

Where the wind goes 

I’d like to know where the wind goes,

I that give chase to it with bare feet and tremble,

Wind that impel us in the labyrinths of our hearts

And makes us lose the route of the reason.

In the embrace of a friend or in the ghosts of the past?

Probably it will end where the thought go dying.

Surfing in the space I met you

Internauts of the heart.

I’d like to know where go ending up the spark of a lost love,

An history that repeats itself,

Overwhelmed by the bitterness,

forgetful of the joy,

and the magic, the effervescence...

lost in the detachment and in the disillusion of a come back

to an ordinary life noisingly destabilizing

and in the abstinence of that muffled and placentate warmth,

from that sense of totality

that made up be sufficient each one for the other,

to feed us just of those few but intense feverish kisses and pure caresses

for longtime desired and sighed.

I’d like to know what will be of us,

Once that the bubble of love

Is exploded at the jogging of thousands of thorns

And there’s no more any spell that made it intact

And supported it bloating in the ether

Pusher by a flux of mysticism

That made it unbreakable and shining.

I’d like to know what will be of the beauty

And of the cyclic sprouts of the springs of the hearts,

In the frost of a snow that has frozen our glances and instincts.

Winter will pass by but we will hold on faithfully

And preserved unchanged our romantic ravings?

It’s left only a sense of subtle gentleness

In the sensitivity of our fragile essences

And the remembering of a caress along the face 

That hid  an unexpressed truth of passion and reciprocal recondite affinities.

Elective affinities.

Senza lacrime - Without tears- Sans larmes

 Senza lacrime

Attendere ogni giorno che il sole sorga,

Il principio di un’alba-

Nel cuore della notte hai tempo per dimenticare te stesso.

Nel disincanto freddo

Del vuoto che hai lasciato

A imputridire ferite scoperte,

ci ho creduto, sebbene irreale.

Cosa è veramente impossibile?

ho voluto illudermi che una strana magia mistica e sensuale

potesse rischiarare i miei pensieri

ed effondere in me quel calore di cui avevo bisogno

per scordarmi di quest’anima triste, spesso incompresa,

senza spazio, senza espressione.

Inseguire il vento, inseguire chimere

Di leggerezze e vanità

D’ilarità e gioia

E pago pur sapendo che non troverò risposta ai miei perché

 perché credo che la speranza non possa morire

 Che troveremo tutti un giorno un’ oasi per poterci proteggere

E in cui le nostre anime finalmente si potranno toccare

Congiungersi in un idillio onirico,

nonostante brancoli nel buio sola.

è quando fai i conti con te stessa che nessuno ti può aiutare.

Scardinare le paure e giocarsi tutto.

Vincere o essere fuori dai giochi.per sempre.

Per spezzare le catene di questo tunnel

Di cui, cieca,non riesco a intravedere la fine.

Il tuo amore mi avrebbe dato coraggio

Ma combatto contro la tua assenza

E mi angoscio il ventre in un malsano spirito d’avventura

Che non mi è mai appartenuto.

Vorrei una casa.

Senza lacrime.

----

Without tears   

Holding on everyday that the sun rises up,

the very beginning of a dawn

In the heart of the night you find time to forget yourself.

In the frozen disinchantement

Of the void you’ve left

To decay uncovered scars,

I’ve believed it, although surreal.

What’s really impossible?

I’ve wanted to delude myself that a strange kind of mystic and sensual magic

Could brighten up my thoughts

And to pour out in me that warmth that I’ve needed 

Forgetting this sad, often misunderstood, soul,

Without space, without expression.

Running after the wind, pursuing chimeras

Of lightness and vanity

Of hilarity and joy

And I pay out, well knowing that I won’t find answer to my questions

Because I believe that hope can’t die

That everyone will find a day an oasis to protect oneself

And in which our souls finally could touch each other

To reconnect themselves in an oneiric idyll,

although I grape in the dark, alone.

It’s when you reckon yourself that nobody can’t help you.

To unhinge the fears and to play everything.

To win or to be out of the games. Forever.

To break the chains of this tunnel

Whose, blind, I can’t to glimpse the end.

Your love would have given to me the courage

But I fight against your absence

And I grieve my womb in an unhealthy spirit of adventure

That has never belonged to me

I ‘d like a home.

With no tears.

----

Sans larmes

 Attendre tous les jours que le soleil monte,

Le principe d’une aube.

Dans le coeur de la nuit tu as le temps pour oublier toi meme.

Dans le froid désenchantement

Du vide que tu as laissé

À pourrir plaies ouvertes,

j’y crois, si bien irréel.

Quoi est vraiment impossible?

J’ai voulu me tromper que une étrange, mistique et sensuel, magie

Porrai éclairer mes pensées

Et  d*verser en moi  quelle chaleur dont j’avais besoin

Pour oublier cette âme triste, souvent mal comprise,

Sans éspace, sans expression.

Courir après au vent, courir après les chimères

De légèreté et vanité

D’hilarité et joie

Et je paye malgréje sais que je ne trouverai des réponses à mes questions,

Pourquoi je crois que l’ésperance ne peut pas mourir

Que tous nous trouverons un jour  une oasis pour nous protéger

Et où nos âmes finalement se puissent toucher

Se rejoindre dans un idylle onirique,

malgré je tâtonne dans le noir, tout seule.

C’est lorsque tu te réconciles avec toi même que personne peut t’aider.

Désarticuler les peurs et se jouer  tout.

Dagner où être de hors des jeux. pour toujours.

Pour briser les chaînes de ce tunnel

dont,aveugle, je ne peut pas apercevoir la fin.

Ton amour m’aurait donné le courage

Mais je lutte contre ton absence

Et je m’inquiéte le ventre dans un malade ésprit d’aventure

Que ne m’a jamais appartenu.

Je voudrais une maison.

Sans larmes.

 

Kate Moss: a wordly acclaimed ambassador of British fashion style

 

Since the ‘90s when started to be highlighted into the spotlight the role of the models on the stage and the cult of models personalities,  no more considered just as mannequins but that lured the public eye for the way they interpreted wearing dresses and coutumiers communicative messages by their custom-tailored collections, Kate Moss icon of beauty cannot be left behind, being an outstanding example of what British fashion style means, bringing it to the world.

Emblem of the skinny and slender size and a minimalistic fashion trend, she hark us back to the concept of essentialism and to the core elements of the mannequin psychology of donning outfits with a hint of simplicity and neutral, natural approach. Paradoxically, talking about Miss Moss it’s not proper referring to a sort of anonymity and transparency by the way she could distinguish herself and as the cold but straight charme left an indelible mark on the international catwalks (New York, Paris, Milan…)she threaded upon and on more of 300 glossy paper magazines, such as Vogue, Elle, Vanity Fair, GQ, etc.

Symbol of a candid austerity she painted of lightness the grey London skies, letting us feel the slightness beyond the numbs, jumping out of rigorousness, the strictness and narrow mentality by a genuine naivety on the street as well as on the runaways. It’s extraordinary, in fact, her embodied interpretation of mental and physical detachment from all what’s around her, in any case or circumstances, riding the wave of the hustle and bustle and hitting hard the ground of the showbiz industry  she managed with a next door girl, pure and simple smile that doesn’t forget a strong spirit of sacrifice stretched to the bones  and dedication. Her constant passion for perfection pushes her to work hard on her body and mind, by practising several  hours and hours a day  sport activities and daily workout and to severely control diet and nutritional intakes, embolding rationality upon greediness. Going beyond the harshness of the critics all the stars can’t avoid to deal with, the accusation of inciting teenagers to anorexic habits and demeneors and some sort of addiction as smoking or making occasional use of cocaine to help her standing still, she has demonstrated to fly high over the provocations of a world of information that however has never hatred her , on the contrary has always adored her sense of self- containment, gentleness and class, showing to simply enjoy life and to be an exceptional partygoers and friendly mate of other models colleagues, as Linda Evangelista and Naomi Campbell and to be very admired and exalted in her tininess by stylists such as the casual and informal Calvin Klein. In his denim, minidresses and cotton zero-kitsch embellishments and ornaments bringing to the four corners of the globe his message of extreme essentiality and minimalism, bringing down any secondary accessories and trinkets, reaching to an androginity standard, not only by his often unisex collections but also by his perfumes such as One,  Be, Eternity and Obsession, emphasizing the characteristic vague gaze and big eyes of the model, that often give us the impression to be lost in a kind of void, to have got that je ne sais quoi, that has always been that quid that brought her to be a step ahead than the other ones and a powerful series of striked poses that remark her skinny simple look .By the passing of times, after working for almost every fashion stylists such as Versace, Gucci, Saint Laurent, Rimmel, Dolce e Gabbana,Missoni, Dior, Burberry and Bulgari, she became the allure testimonial of a classy and over-refined Chanel, adorned of threads of pearls and feathers, abandoning the old straight  ‘90s image, jumping into the gold, showing off thigh skimmed slipdresses, fluffy voiles and veiling stockings, bringing her fresh breeze to the sophisticated French trend icon of traditional, classical beauty. Snapped in the public as well as in her private life, very busy, although her appearance of fragile grown up woman, she’s always demonstrated how much though she’s always been in managing her business and her crowded and fuzzy lifestyle, finding also the time for some but exceptional love affairs, among which we remember celebrities as Johnny Depp, and Peter Doherty, Jamie Hince that gave her a daughter, Lila Grace, and recently the German aristocrat and photographer Count Nikolai von Bismark, always under a veil of moderation and sobriety, keeping her private life far from nasty gossips and scandals.

Impressing audience since her start-up times of Storm Model Agency in New York for her reverse mode that swept away over sized, Mediterranean, plumpy or curveliness trends of the previous years she enchanted everyone by her innocent feautures and sexy lips other than by the grace of her gentle moves, that has given her the fame of a seraphic, angelic, almost ethereal woman.

In her 40s, far away from the times of super modeling, she’s made her debut as businesswoman, by designing a special collection for  the British fashion company Topshop in London , named “Moss”, that mixes original fringes and straps to essential core clothes and textures, other than bags, belts and accessories and participated as an actress to the series “Absolutely Fabolous” and as interpreter of beauty in the G. Michael video “White Lights”.

The simplicity of her dresses aims to put in evidence the perfection of the body underneath it, almost as a way to convey the message that more that what you wear it’s important what there’s under the outfit, preferring to be rather than to have. The dress is finalized to exalt the perfection or the main traits of the body, so a fashion industry not focused on itself, in an over elaboration and abundance of fabrics and materials, but on the woman silhouette.

Don’t let us surprised how she has been capable to gather and welcome  throughout the years so different fades of the universal feminine appeal and lending her face to so different  interpreters of womanhood. by a subtle, delicate and slippery fascination and cliché.

Video presentation of my e-book "Eternal feminine: an inspirational sour...

Love is not a slot machine

 

Love is a chaotic magmatic fire

Hot red like the colour of your lips

 that enframe your candid white exciting smile,

I would be bit from.

A fire that burns and melts the smallest particles of your molecules

Pushing you to an unavoidable transformation and evolution to your next being,

That makes you stronger,

Maybe wiser, maybe sillier…

It’s all about absurdity,

The strangest and the most pleasant accident you would live or die for and could ever happen to you.

Trusting in your feelings you can be never cheated on.

They tell us much more than words and gestures,

They master the whole complexity

And have the most clearest and comprehensive view

That catches what rationality fails to grab or snag.

You feel to have never been so alone and scared

and at the same time so complete

like in a magnetic glance we would be only a thing.

Breaking down boredom, upsetting old mindsets you’re tired to keep on  bearing

And you want to get rid of

to renew and regenerate in something else.

Love is black

Like your sexy eyes…

Dead-killing then the faded end lines of your eyebrows…

Fine like your sleek cleverness

Cunning and quick like your intuitive glances

Strong and firm like your grit

Black like the reassuring darkness of the calm seawaters of the night

Like a maternal cradle that lulls you until the end of times

The colour in which something you repel  dies to turn in something else.

I painted all my fires, along with their fireplaces, in black,

To be here. To be now.

Here you are that, from single pictures, you create the sequence

and the movie of a ballet, exclusively orchestrated by the heart,

A tango that see our legs and bodies intertwined and grasped

 in the musical alternating of the rhythms

That jots down subtle harmonies in the magic feverish space around us.

Clear, glad and sensual the vibrations of your voice in which inflections I sail and linger on…

Strong infatuations make you inexplicably lose consciousness

reasons why it’s the most amazing form of madness

In which not all shapes are congruent and always fits well one another

In which you constantly work on rounding off and soothing the corners

Searching improbable joints.

It’s hypnosis in which you’re lost in a swarm of emotions.

You hear but don’t listen…

The details vanish, like your perspective,

Focused in another dimension,

In a tantalizing luring puppeteering of parts of you

whose you pull up and down the threads in search of the perfect minuetto,

that irresistibly attracts you in a mysterious alchemic game.

When you welcome and make room to it

is like the coin you choose to insert in a  slot machine

looking for some kind of fortune                                                                                                                          

maybe at the beginning a way like another to pass your time

longing for something new and different, some kind of amusement or whatsoever…

Initially maybe distractedly bored but insanely curious,

 then more and more involved till you finish to be enthusiastically raped

Taking on all your risks for victory’s sake.

It gives you the shivers on your spine like an electric shock

 in a ride on a roller coaster in and outside the tunnels,

needing to strongly fasten your belts and from which you wouldn’t never get off.

I’m not that kind of strong in my private life…

You and I,

We are pure art forms and culture,

Impressive portraits of perfection,

The chiaroscuro of a hysterical complementarity of melancholic hilarity,

linked by the quintessence of illusion,

Enchantment from classy glamour,

 masterpiece of nature,

inside out beauty and gorgeousness,

Smile to life.

Starring at each other eyes we can move mountains

primordial spring of energy

Trying to control the blood pressure and dizziness

To not stumble in our feet

In the perplexity  if losing or not losing control.

Every new love gushing from my heart

Makes me feel experience means nothing to me.

Whatever else are even all the marriages if not a strolling around in an overcrowded Lasvegas casino’?

Love is an affair at risk of consumption

But it’s never a losing game

If you can make it on your own.

You must be enough chameleonic ,

 If you decide to invest in it

 playing on disguise, to win the match,

to conquer what so strangely, suddenly, awake your wittiness and your senses

Passing over what is flat, old and useless by the passing of time

That project you in new realities or new dangerous fantasies

You can never know

Nothing’s predictable

I want the kingdom between my legs

And one memorable night would be enough to give you all.

Love feeds by itself

but if unrequited perishes like parts of yourself

 when one day after another look at you knowing that you could never be mine.

when you’re trapped in the cage of the illusion

you ask yourself what’s wrong in you and why it’s not possible turning it into reality

Early or later you need to touch the earth

All the flights need a landing or you bet your head derailing to obsession and manic

Don’t take a joke too far!

When I realize it in my obnubilated mind

it has already taken roots in my depths

always late

hardly believing… waiting for too long makes you lose hope.

skepticism has nothing to do with dreams,

so you are at a crossroad .

Sad and void, aware that this kind of emptiness could be filled just by him,

you can really perceive to be already addicted and sometimes unnerved

in the anguish for all the efforts made in vain in the immutability of the events.

Agonizing frustration.

We are distant in any possible meaning

and maybe nothing could join us, now and never…

and you feel your life itself have no sense

even if he keeps on making you feel it flows into your pulsing veins.

It’s the magic of seduction that from the initial attraction wants  just to head towards the sea

Always this game of impossible equilibriums,

 of give and draw back, to keep alive the desire,

when you would rather like completely abandon yourself to the other

I’m tired of all this stuff…

I have frayed nerves and my temples drilled…

Apathy like the excess of adrenaline could play tricks!

Love is also the certainty that you can let you go and set you free

That sane middle way and line of continuity so wished and never known

beyond the void and the nothingness after  the scruffles and the fuss…

what is true, then, when nobody knocks at your door?

You never stop to give me all sorts of orgasms but I can’t touch you,

All is surreal and highly unlikely,

The pernicious fatal effects of virtuality…

Exaggeration is my first skill and my utmost damage!

The sad princess is a child always grown up in the lost or missing of her soul-mate

That’s why she hates games and slip away from them

That’s why she’s in a hunt of shelters.

Lover is a winning gambler…but will this fortune last forever?

Without filters in the tunnel (free thoughts) - Senza filtri nel tunnel (pensieri liberi)

 Without filters in the tunnel (free thoughts)

from "Versi da una camera oscura", Amazon editions, 2021

I don’t know how much again I should serve my guilt to have loved with no limits

Neither of the mind nor of the conscience

I recollect the fragments of what has been at the mercy of nothingness

Just by virtue of my passion and without welcoming addressers.

As ever I love who is not present

And the imperviousness of the path attracts me and shroud me without filter.

Who we gather what I sowed along the way and will succeed to stitch me up

To come back to be what I was and to evolve in something somehow better?

I have no consciousness of what I am

And the future is an unclear arcanum.

Behind the walls of the indifference often are hidden sick hearts.

I hope to have let transpire some sense of beauty and inner illumination

Even if sometimes avulsed from reality,

To have gifted a dream

In a world that is not so marvelous

And escapism

And a cradle of tenderness

In which finding shelter.                                        

I know how it feels

When you arrived stretched blown out to the limit

And you feel with no rescues, no god, no alibi, no hope. 

This is what I have given not asking nothing in return,

As I would have wished to have been done to me.

But it was like talking to a deaf

And to show to a blind man.

So much that I had to turn back to retrace my steps

Not losing out too much.

I wished a son of love to offer to life…I produced cancers…the sons of rejection…

My immunological system is fucked,

Psychological defences to seal again

But at least is left the poetry.

You’re a professional killer.

Maybe it’s just me the deaf and the blind person.

Probably it’s the strange manner to adapt oneself to the life.

And I’ve lost and an important part of me have been left.         

Mocked and repeled

Made insignificant

With you I risked the bottom of the barrel.

Maybe I have a propension for bastards…

Everyday one humiliation more.

You sucked me in a vortex

In order to see me reduced to beg for a caress or a gesture

Make me go beyond each of my abysses

To find always new resources

To be able to love you one time more

Persisting in not accepting a reality different from that I have imagined.

Let’s not turn back any more, let’s look just ahead,

Towards more natural compatibilities, out of the machine,

Searching not just by the instinct and the heart

But also by the use of mind

What helps us to build our happiness,

If we are not able to stay alone.

We would create less damages if we would learn to love more ourselves.

It’s been foulishness. Maybe it’s my fault.

The end of a love story is not the end of life,

Even if I live each of them as it was the only one,

Even if I always fight with my first of them, the only unforgettable,

And it’s hard to find new equilibriums

Because every story transforms you    

And you can’t be always equal to yourselves.

We drag ourselves, we combat to find us again unnerved, not knowing what to do

Sometimes for the wish to put ourselves at stake

To find a sense where sometimes there isn’t one

To look then the sky and find again the serenity,

a sky that shows us that this is all.

I don’t know if it exists the perfect alchemy or it’s just a bullshit that we tell us

But I have learned by experience that the most important thing is to not lose oneself of sight,

To preserve us from useless devastations and self-harm,

In search of wisdom within an emotion.

 Love is communion, not annulment for the other

Even if maybe I won’t never be capable of not giving myself completely without conditions

And I will live forever somehow the conflict.

Arrived to forty, you come to terms with it

With the fact that nobody won’t be able to fill up that void

But maybe I’m just wasting my time with no point

For who has never deserved it and has never cherished my happiness.

I try naturally to open myself to life, with its joys and sorrows,

to who wants me to reflourish and smiles at me,

rather than dredging up an inclement past

to shake off the cross of pain. 

Senza filtri nel tunnel (pensieri liberi)

Non so quanto ancora dovrò scontare la colpa di aver amato senza limiti

Né della mente né della coscienza

Raccolgo i frammenti di ciò che è stato sparsi in balia del nulla

Forti solo della mia passione  e senza destinatario di recapito.

Come sempre amo chi non c’è

E l’impervietà del percorso mi attrae e coinvolge senza filtro.

Chi raccoglierà ciò che ho seminato per la via e riuscirà a ricucirmi

Per tornare a essere quel che ero o evolvere in qualcosa comunque migliore?

Di quel che sono non ho coscienza

E il futuro è un arcano incerto.

Dietro muri d’indifferenza spesso si celano cuori malati.

Spero di aver fatto traspirare qualche senso di bellezza e illuminazione interiore

Sebbene talvolta  astrusi  dalla realtà,

di aver regalato un sogno

In un mondo che tanto meraviglioso non è

Ed evasione

E una culla di tenerezza

                                               In cui trovare rifugio.                                              

So cosa si prova

Quando si arriva scoppiati al limite

E ci si sente  senza scampo, senza dio, senza alibi, né speranze. 

Questo è quel che ho dato senza chiedere nulla in cambio,

come avrei voluto fosse stato fatto a me.

Ma era come parlare a un sordo

e mostrare a un cieco.

Tanto da dovermi ritirare sui miei passi

senza rimetterci troppo.

Volevo un figlio dell’amore da offrire alla vita…ho prodotto tumori…i figli del rifiuto…

Il mio sistema immunitario va a puttane,

Difese psicologiche da ricucire

Ma almeno è rimasta la poesia.

Sei un killer professionista.

Forse la sorda e la cieca ero proprio io.

Probabilmente è lo strano modo di adattarsi alla vita.

Ed io ho perso e ci ho lasciato una parte importante di me.       

Irrisa e repulsa

Resa insignificante

Con te ho raschiato il fondo del barile.

Forse ho una propensione per i bastardi…

Ogni giorno un’umiliazione di troppo,

mi hai risucchiata in un vortice

per poi vedermi ridotta ad elemosinarti una carezza o un gesto

facendomi andare oltre ogni mio abisso

per trovare risorse sempre nuove

per riuscire ad amarti una volta in più

ostinandomi a non accettare una realtà diversa da come l’avevo immaginata.

Non volgiamoci più indietro, guardiamo solo avanti,

verso compatibilità più naturali, fuori dalla macchina,

cercando non solo con l’istinto e il cuore

ma anche con la mente,

ciò che ci aiuta a costruire la nostra felicità,

se non sappiamo stare soli.

Faremmo meno danno a imparare ad amare più noi stessi.

E’ stata una follia. Forse è colpa mia.

La fine di un amore non è la fine della vita,

anche se vivo ogni storia come se fosse unica,

anche se combatto sempre col mio unico primo,

ed è dura riequilibrarsi

perché ogni storia ti cambia        

e non si riesce più ad essere sempre uguali a se stessi.

Ci si trascina, si combatte per ritrovarsi sfiniti e non saper che fare

Talvolta per la voglia di rimettersi in gioco

Per trovare un senso dove talvolta non c’è

Per poi guardare il cielo e ritrovare una serenità che ci mostra che è tutto qui.

Non so se esiste  l’alchimia perfetta o è solo una balla che ci raccontiamo

ma  ho capito con’esperienza che l’importante è cercare di non perdersi di vista,

di preservarci da devastazioni inutili e autolesionismi,

 cercando saggezza  dentro l’emozione.

 L’amore è comunione, non annullamento per l’altro

Anche se forse non riuscirò mai completamente a darmi senza riserve

e vivrò sempre in qualche modo il conflitto.

Giunti a quarant’anni te ne fai una ragione

Che quel vuoto non lo potrà mai colmare nessuno

Ma forse spreco solo tempo inutilmente

Per chi non l’ha mai meritato e non ha avuto mai a cuore la mia felicità.

Cerco di aprirmi naturalmente alla vita, con le sue gioie e i suoi dolori,

a chi ti vuol fare rifiorire e ti sorride,

piuttosto che rivangare un passato inclemente

per scrollarmi di dosso la croce del dolore.