Wednesday, 29 January 2014

Where do emotions go?

When emotions go to places they stay there.
And when we visit them - places and emotions - there they are.

Carry your emotions in the pocket of your heart
and let them be confortably hugged by the warmth
that they originally had when they were born.

Then try to keep them close to you
just in hand, just there at reach
so that whenever you need them
you can always find them.

Because if you don't pay close attention
they'll runaway as independent and lost
as some alley cat who never had a home,
and then you will have a faint idea of all of your loss
but there won't be anything you can do.

Monday, 27 January 2014

I have fought all my life to find the balance, guiding myself through the saying of "virtus in medium est", and yet here I am lost in the middle in between nowhere. 

Sunday, 26 January 2014

Enchiridion, by Epictetus

... The things in our control are by nature free, unrestrained, unhindered; but those not in our control are weak, slavish, restrained, belonging to others. Remember, then, that if you suppose that things which are slavish by nature are also free, and that what belongs to others is your own, then you will be hindered. You will lament, you will be disturbed, and you will find fault both with gods and men. But if you suppose that only to be your own which is your own, and what belongs to others such as it really is, then no one will ever compel you or restrain you. Further, you will find fault with no one or accuse no one. You will do nothing against your will. No one will hurt you, you will have no enemies, and you not be harmed. 

Wednesday, 22 January 2014

being a better human,
a better human being,
human being a better,
a human being better

Tuesday, 21 January 2014

True Love is the ultimate bomb: when it starts it is exploding with happiness and when it ends it goes nuke and annihilates everything.

Sunday, 19 January 2014



What else can you tell?

Wednesday, 15 January 2014

Mankind can be divided in, amongst others, three categories: losers, assholes and overachievers.

Monday, 13 January 2014

Restarting? Not possible.

Is creation possible when everything is gone?
They say one can start from scratch, a clean slate... but is it ever clean, is it ever starting from nothing?
I don't think so. Unless you're a newborn, or even in that case I don't think it's possible, because you're always genetically predisposed, you come with a heavy heritage of centuries past.

So restarting is a false concept. It's just to give hope like everything else that humans made up. Restarting is not possible. If it were a game, a mere façade, it would be, because in a game you could create your own rules from the start if the game was truly yours, and who knows you could actually have spare lives too.
In reality the game has long been over when the human species was being formed. For from start we know that life is a long-term suicidal plan and nothing more than that.

The last goodbye

When he held me tight,
to show me that he loved me,
I almost felt I couldn't breath
and I thought then
that I wanted his arms to be my final home
and his embrace my final goodbye.

Saturday, 11 January 2014

Friday, 10 January 2014

My own

I am my own joy
my own pain

There are too many people
There are too many things

I am my own body
I am my own mind

My love is wild like the wind

My love is wild like the wind.
When he doesn't love me he tears me apart.
When he loves me he lifts me up to dance in the clouds
and we fly away to our own eden.
For we are wild like the wind
just like our love.

Monday, 6 January 2014

translucid sounds
transparent lights

the rains of silence
the cold meltdown

"everyone's Noah
everyone's the ark"

show me the light
hidden in the dark

I couldn't see

Saturday, 4 January 2014

The first nightfall

After days without seeing the sun
the sky finally appeased and showed its blue
and I understood the days were turning,
restarting to grow larger.

The sky was falling pink amongst the shades
of the stormy days that now passed
and every car was a pink mirror
and every building's window was invisible.

Far, I could listen to a kind of siren's song
coming from the northern breeze
and it was whispering in a choir of silk
that new days were being spawned again.

My sight was serene and not darkened
as it used to for so many days,
and though the sun was no longer there
I could still feel its light in the horizon.

An ethereal calm was sung in the clouds
and it tenuous vibration reached my face
I was no longer alone, I thought,
although the still reminiscence of pain.