2019.02.18.
Ilenia
I’m better at writing
But I don’t want to be read
Not even I can read myself
I’m waiting for the revolution
But waiting is not acting
Choosing of not choosing
An obliged choice
But other people’s problems always fascinated me
Or maybe distracted me
I hate the day of my birthday
I wanted to go away
Walk on glass sherds with the shoes
But I’m still here
Pleasing everyone
Pleasing someone
That says I love you
The world has no unicorn
Has no seven-tipped leaves
It has voices
But not faces
Always the same voices
Of a silent woman and of confused men
And the (Padron ‘Ntoni) seniors* of our age cannot understand
My teenage has been the first to run away
Ilenia
The square is empty**
Ilenia /
The square is silent
If you touch my belly button there is a thread that reaches my throat
I have a mother who’d want me to be a different person
I can’t talk
My face tells for myself
I’m a bit animal
A bit damage
And I’d like to live naked
I feel the world with my nose
I hate to have it clogged
I grow fond of people easily
But I don’t feel like explaining
As in the end I can also talk
But it’s not easy to understand
And I feel a bit bad for this
Actually I don’t feel bad
About having met you in a bad period
Because you have been the most beautiful
You shined the most
A fuck
A weight
I don’t know what it has been for you but
I don’t wanna know the reason behind
I like to daydream and end my sentences with a “why…”
Ilenia here the squares are busy
But harmless
Nowadays squares make revolutions only when they’re empty
Ilenia
The square is empty
Ilenia
The square is silent
Ilenia
The square is empty
Ilenia
The square is silent
Here coffins are narrow
But they want to live in them
Guitars without strings
Having without giving
Here they confuse pain with tears of joy
A few shivers or gasps
Much prose
Too much boredom
Here you can’t escape
Because you are the jailer
Here everything is rational
Only obligations and duties
Here where you live now
In a longing heart
Waiting for something
For someone
For a mistake
2019.02.07.
Love is a dictatorship
They saw us swimming in waters that reached our knees
And bowing to mosquitoes, begging them not to mix
Our blood with the one of the mass of mice that came from the sea
Open doors, closed harbors, smiles to strangers
Looking at us in amazement as we kiss,
Man to man, hand in hand
A cigarette can't tell it, it might take an entire life
Or a song, surely not this one,
Other masters, other parents
Who don't hold against you who you are, what you want
What you used to be
Existing is only one moment
Those who live through time die happily
And yes, they saw us counting the stones of this desert
Patience, wasting time with the sky, doing it as a job
Paid to imagine something you can't take a photo of
I'll make myself clearer, without hiding behind bullshit
Casually written in this horror gym
Here's the stone, here's the sin,
A shepherd dog does it for love,
Not for money, not for resentment,
Flocks don't only exist for the wool
Nor for the law
We are antennas, televisions
We emit stories that make noise
We search for the woman of life or the man of death
Closed roads, eternal smiles, children blood of our work
They won't resemble us, they'll be children of the entire world
Losing the dullness of when everything was in place
Mice killed off, annihilated, monsters under the bed
You let that familiar embrace fly away
Of those who, in the name of your good, destroyed your past
When you arrive the others leave
You know it won't do, but you like to make do
As they do in those countries we can't pronounce the names of
But we like to tame with words
I was there when the facts happened
The fact doesn't continue to exist
Put it into record
But you don't fear anyone
Except your height
There's democracy in your heart
But love is a dictatorship
Made of categorical imperatives
But no executions
While, on the other hand, you can find anarchy in every emotion
Stay close to me, or rather, distant enough
So I can look at your face from the room of my eyes
Open or closed, it doesn't matter
They're eyes, so still an open door
The time is passing, you can hear it from this watch
While you work in a café, in a press or in an office and
And you still hope for someone waiting for you out there,
Not to beg you for money, nor to rob you,
Not to sell you drugs or steal your job position
But to scream into your face that you're the only one, the only one
The only one, the only one
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