The kiss

The stillness of the moment.

The two breaths that are dancing together 

In a waltz of desire to possess the each other's lips.

The heart that stops for a moment 

And it brings all the blood on your face.

The brain that stopped to think

And the heart that stopped to beat.

The shake in your body like there's an internal earthquake.

And the hands  want to caress the back, the face or the neck.

It is a moment of craziness

That takes a lot of madness 

Because to accept the mouth of somebody else

Can bring such a big mess.

The brain doesn't think

And the heart doesn't beat.

But the body is ready to possess 

A person through a lusty kiss.

A gloomy afternoon

The fragrance and the vapors of the tea are long gone. The cup is marked with red lips like a birthmark. The books are scattered on a small coffee table Together with some white and scribbled folded paper.

The wet and cold air flows through the wide opened door To soothe the room that was scorching two days ago. The wet soil fragrance puts the lazy dog to sleep And it drifts off my fidgety soul.

The birds are singing outside, far away from my door, A lullaby to the sky And to the curious cat that lays listening to their song.

My eyes are closed. I see a pink light. And I imagine that the birds are sending a message through their lullaby. That life is not only motion but also enjoyment of a silent time.

It's peaceful and addictive. The air likes to play between my fingers. The time flows slowly in this tiny room Where a girl, a dog, a cup, some books and folded papers are resting on a gloomy afternoon.

Memories

Sitting in a chair with my head bursting of pain
I think about you.
It’s been so long since you came into my mind.

I remember like it was yesterday
In those times when the future was just a child’s play.
You taught me one lesson 
How to live not just messin’.

I’m sitting here listening to your song
You always loved to play and made me sink in thoughts.
But everything is gone,
There’s no hatred, not even lust.

I buried you so long time ago.
I buried the memories we used to share.
Even the goodbye message on that broken old phone.

But do you know how much you hurt me?
Do you know how much you played with me?
Probably not, because I said yes when we broke up.

I still remember your brown child-like eyes and the tone of your voice.
I can’t forget even if I want.
You were my first love and my last.
Because I’ll never leave someone to play with my heart.

I’m sitting here on my desk
Trying to make sense of a bunch of verbs.
My head is bursting with pain but I forget
Because I still remember what you once said
You only live for now, forget the rest.

I see

I see the time as a tree

With many branches and leaves

That holds the story of a ME

Who exists, should be or gone already.

I see the past as a leave

That tried its best but,

It’s time to flee into the air

And to just disappear.

I see the future as a blooming flower

Opening its petals as the opportunities transpire.

Each thought, each action, each word

Makes the flower to blow with color.

And when the time is right a fruit will devour

The place where used to be just a drop of color.

Just thinking

“I see these frightening expanses of the universe that shut me in, and I find myself stuck in one corner of this vast emptiness, without knowing why I am placed here rather than elsewhere, or why from out of the whole eternity that has gone before me and the whole eternity that will follow, this one tiny period has been given me in which to live out my life. I see only infinities on every side which shut me in like an atom, like a shadow that lasts only an instant, with no possibility of return. All I know is that I must soon die, but my ignorance is darkest concerning this very death that I cannot avoid.”( Blaise Pascal, Pensées,1660)

Why now? Why was I born now, in this era? I always wanted to know the answer. Why do I feel so distant to this post-modern culture? Why I feel so different from other people? Why do I always think in a different manner than the rest of people? Why do I feel like I can let my spirit wonder and in the same time my body can move like a container, without life, doing the worldly and repetitive things?

This is my world. It’s full of questions I don’t have response. I find myself feeling like a stranger in this world of consumerism and selfishness. I don’t feel good. I feel trapped like a bird in cage and I want to break free. But where should I go?

It’s a strange world I cannot understand. I cannot understand how it works. Always the selfish person wins; always the stupid person is the best. Am I the only one who feels this way? I often ask myself. Probably not. Probably I’m not the only one who feels like this place is not the home she or he is looking for. I don’t want a perfect world but I want one that treats people like they deserve.

These days I really hate to go out. I’m trapped in the world of books. Sadly, it’s a world of fantasy and lies. But it’s alright, because I know the truth. The real one is different. People like to lie and deceive, but they do it with a smile on their face. I don’t know what they’re thinking. And when I realize it, it’s too late. I’m the one left behind with a broken heart, because I believed in them.

 When I walk on the streets I see only sad people. They are so sad that they want to find company in alcohol and women/men to feel that warmth they are looking for. Why are they doing that? Tomorrow, when the spell is broken, they are going back to their invisible cage, called life. Then, they will do the same thing the next day. Why don’t they try to break free? I see it but I don’t understand it. Maybe, because I’m not mature enough, because I’m still trapped in my idyllic world of words and dreams.

I don’t feel good here. This is not my place. I feel these sentences deep inside me. I’ve tried to mingle, but it’s getting tiring. It’s like trying to put a comedy show so you can entertain others. This is what I do. But in my mind and soul, there is another feeling. I don’t like it here. It’s strange and cold. I don’t want to become a container, without a soul, without her own thinking.

When I stop putting the mask of happiness and I show my real me, people are puzzled. Why do you think this way? they ask me. Why don’t you do like others do? Why don’t you follow the natural order of life?  The answer is: I cannot do it. Something is stopping me. Like a sixth sense. I always had it. This sensation that you’re special, do not go on the same path your parents, grandparents, friends took it and are taking it. Because you’re different. Since I was a child, I felt different from my classmates, from my parents, like I’m not from here. And, I left that place, called home, for another one hoping to find the answers. The new one is giving me the same vibration. It’s not your home, it’s not what are you looking for.

But, again, what I’m looking for? I don’t know. The only thing is that I feel different from the rest.

I don’t hate this world. I never did. It gave me wonderful memories, wonderful friends, wonderful family. But I cannot feel it. It’s a strange place to me. I don’t feel it deep inside me. Maybe I should stop looking and just build my own world, where I can live.

This place, called Earth is a strange place.

To live

Have you ever thought how it is to slowly die?

Between the thorns of the human life

You try and try to get away

But only blood and flesh is torn this way.

You look around and see no one,

It’s just you and the lonely sun.

You cry for help with a desperate sound

But all you can hear is the deadly earth bound.

You raise your face and watch the sky,

When the playful birds are flying high.

And you wish you could do the same

But the thorns are getting in your way.

You put your gaze back to its place

Why does it matter when everything is so wretched?

All your dreams and hopes and thoughts

Have vanished after just one drop

Because life itself is just one stop

Where you can live, grow, love and sob.

You close your eyes and fade away

With a broken smile and a tear on her way,

And you think that your life it’s just a dream

Carried by a butterfly at his whim.

But all you can do now it’s to convey

That your dreams and hopes must be carried away

By another human born today

Between the thorns of the human way.

A place called home

           

             People’s souls are feeding from memories. They are the nutrient for our daily complicated lives. They can be hard to digest because they’re too painful or full of vitamins giving us energy to live.

            Sometimes, when I’m staying in my room and nowhere to go, trapped like a bird in a cage, I remember that special moment when I felt free, when I saw angels.

            After two scorching summer days, the rain had come. I remember clearly how I put my shoes on and I went for a stroll in the woods. Getting there was a way of clearing the hot malicious thoughts that were invading my mind. When I got there, I admired the view. The hills were so green as if the rain had revived the almost dead grass. The lake was so bright under the refreshing sun’s rays, like diamonds caught under the light.

            The patches of green land were sitting stranded between the quiet rippling of the shining water. They seemed so desolated but their green was pulsating around the silver color of the lake.

            The sky was holding some clouds that were moving as the refreshing breeze was passing by like a nice neighbor saying hello.

            The rays of the sun were trying to fight against the clouds giving a feeling like angels were coming on earth. Blue, grey, strands of light and some colors left from a dying rainbow were making the sky a painter’s dream.

            The smell of wet soil was flooding my lungs. I felt so refreshed like the dragonfly that was flying so lively near me, playing in the grass.

            I was feeling the sky, the soil, the air, the rain. I was one with the nature.

            The angels were coming.