“I’m in love with you, and I’m not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I’m in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.” — John Green

I have nothing. 
my only estate is my personal wisdom 
acquired through paths of misery and grace.

The Unknown

I do not recognize your face
from the windows of the Past,
but I know we're on the same pace
because you're not like anyone else.

I can feel your warm embrace
in my filled heart and soul
as I never turn this page
and don't ever feel this whole.

It puzzles me not to know who you are
and what's even worse about it
is that I feel you're some kind of star.

Whenever this undefined doubt flit
back into my weary dreams
I knew only what it seems.

People think friends are like flour: there's the self-raising, the plain and the all-purpose one.

The Prize.

No money, no honor, no war to fight but life,
Sometimes there's no winners I realize.

Whatever you do nothing good comes out of it,
Whatever you feel it won't make you any better.

Theses flying thoughts infest my gestures
and I have no actions at all
as I climb on and on in my sins
there's no peek of glory.

You never understood my battles
and couldn't love me more than for a while
couldn't grasp my feelings for you
even though you tried only for a second.

Come now and join me in my demise
Because you're the core of the story
Even more than we can reckon
There was never a possible prize.

Identity

There are peoples that haven't got themselves an identity, because they don't have enough History and even Culture, or also because they're just a melting pot of other peoples.

Not having an identity can be quite confusing. In this world in which everything is rushed into judgement not having a definition scares everyone else, not having a definition is seen as threatening.

This world has made our brains divide people in three: white dumb rich know-and-can-all people, black poor and insignificant people, and terrorist suicidal-bombers. Yes, it's true, not just simplistically; our brains are formatted to make everything we sense fit into concepts that society has created and introduced us to since a young age. That's why we can only see black and white, and then feel grey, and then have a sense of confusion installed when realizing something's not quite right in all the conceptions we've designed.

What's who we are? Is it what's to see or what's to feel? Is it both? How do we negotiate when they're opposites, when the informations we obtain just don't add up in our conceptions and appearing so contradictory? Do we ignore them and let the judgement speak louder?

Are we just what people think of us? Or are we much more, or another thing, different than everyone thinks? And if so, who knows us? How do we show who we really are, in order to break all stereotypes that hang upon us?

That's why we are mostly naturally solitary beings .

Can or should we put in order what we are first to last? And how do we do it? Am I first an individual or am I a collective being?

How can we move on if we don't know who we are as individuals and collective beings?

 if people had a conscience and were aware that every single one of them are dying, they would be much better than what they are... 


As they don't, they're just a bunch of rotting beings, freaking animalia

Still a little bit of your taste...

A wonderful world

There's something about this world
that I know I'll never fully grasp,
just as the musics I'll never listen
and all the landscapes I'll never see.

I know the wind and the water,
and the sky and the earth
will remain after I'm gone
to the land of no return.

I've seen there are many wonders
all throughout this luxurious world
but it saddens me to witness
all the damage that humans make.

I know the animals and the plants,
the way they blossom so beautiful
and the rainbows and sunsets
will always be there for you and me.

But it bruises my heart to feel
that everything that we ruin
is the only thing it's real.

It makes me fall into the deepest abyss
to realize the destruction we made
in this wonderful world as we call.

Sheets of empty canvas

Long curtains of life pyrocraved with moments of lacey love and trimmed sadness.
I keep ironing them and I don't learn anything new out of them.
My paintings are filled with emptiness and anger and wishes for peace and happiness, turmoils of draped experiences all stamped on the walls.
Remember how we use to be?