Getting closer

‘And we rise. From the ground’. I am not self-destructive tonight. I just want this feeling to last, a little bit more. I feel strong, untouchable. You fly in my mind, re-occuring from flashes of a summer night. This feeling is strange. I am not inspired by the tranquillity of the moment. What I feel now is pure. I have no more distorted, blurred, uneven images of the past, of the present. If I had to learn your language I would have invented another definition of pain, of sadness, of resolution. We can, my baby reach togetherness. ‘Too late’ is just poor phrasing now. Don’t think of me as a presence of blank sensuality. I am not cold. I don’t want to be cold. ‘Today is the day against noise’. You are wrong. It is not. Today is not the day against noise and today is not the day to say: ‘Stop and stare. Move on’. And to be reasonable you are not here. It requires a great deal of courage to believe in the aesthetics of ... The body does deteriorate and expire. It does become one with the essentials of creation and it does most times (I don’t want to be unfair to the sufferers of life) carry away memories. It might be as well true. I am probably the person on the side –on the margin of this “reality” (if this is the correct term of reality). I get closer to questions every day. I only want to know one thing; that all of them will be answered before I’m gone.

To feel..

You're moving too fast in my brain. I want you. I want you to want me too. J, sweety, I see you now and I know I love you. I think you're flying - that's probably because you don't turn around to look at me too. There are so many people like myself, in this world that admire the stillness of trees at night-time. Trees can become symbols of our senses. As I'm moving fast, I'm trying to count them. I can't navigate my thought on one number. I can touch the light of this moment. I am shining. You are shining. I believe I'm yours. When you touch me I am yours. If life is as small as how long this sensation lasts I now admit gladly that I am a dreamer. You walk, open the door, look at me, kiss me, touch me. I feel your hands travelling under my skin. They are reaching another place - a place unknown to others - a place of rhythms. There is no thought in the place I walk now. Join me, to this place where we can only feel..

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I always walk in circles.. Why is it that all of us breathe using our chest? This old lady loves to scream. She says that it’s a way of forgetting the many bad thoughts stored inside her. I am tired of the general. I need to be looked at, to be noticed. You said you’re ready for something new; someone new. I said I can’t stand the thought of you being in pain. Yes, sometimes I don’t know how to express my emotions. It is true that all of us break sometimes. Some have the strength to get over it, while others feel a constant pain. I’m looking outside the window while admitting to myself how much I miss our evening conversations. I was mistaken to say that you’re one of them. Don’t be scared. Do not be afraid that for once more you did not receive the reaction you’ve expected. I love you. It’s this distance which is keeping your desire always vivid for her. Love yourself, love your body. You’re special, like everyone, in another way– even though i will never appreciate that everyone is special and everyone can offer something to this already corrupted world (I have as well my flaws). And I’m still stuck on this chair, in this room, trying to live from memories, trying to get a reach of my consciousness.