Fogged Windows

through Fogged Windows the landscape resembles the
continuous journey that would lend me hope, embracing the finest never-existing moments that once were.

through Fogged Windows I never ache rather am healed,
and it lasts good alright, and the smoothness of the
window's fog is the hand that triggers.
And me:I'm shoot outwards in ecstasy, so that time
is not palpable in any form.

through Fogged Windows the lands of gloomy sorrow enlighten me, and the breath of seagulls is casted upon us -- nature's way of sending bliss -- and the melodies from heaven are being shot downwards as well.

how can you not take part of it?

I can, for the signs are not oblivious to me.

To
get
to
dive, streamdown, like a submarine being sunk.
By

itself.

the Green Room

Such an awkward altercate

Look at what you
have
done,
now.

!

Troubles, fewer, fever.
Borrowed, cast, in pain.

And I bow, calf-down
towards what I think is best for me

Magnificent!

-

Such nobleness!
certainly, that of thy heart
which lacks of mean
and lacks of feel


I would like to
peer
into it, and take for granted

at last.

Adrift

This is what keeps me going through the day,

the smell
of the thin air that exudes hope and purity and

the sound of
a motorbike passing
by

and

the look
of the night and the
wood of pines and glitter and dark air and of the whistle of trees

and everything would appear to
be so obtuse at first but now it's
getting clearer

and I recall
what used to be a glory haze that seem
to lengthen forever much like as if you were throwing asphalt into the pavement,
partially fulfilling what appears to be a void of longing

and I was rooting, although you couldn't hear me, but I was.

And I'm not rightminded
And I never was
And I won't listen to them.

I endure and strengthen for the outcome is so rewarding.
Therefore I bear,

and make me batter.

doesn't mind.


So tragic
and selfdestructive
and barely sane.


You are so effervescent
for me
and me,
I'm so oblivious
for you,

overlooked.


Eclipsed.

-


But I'll be surefooted when time is proper.

I'm sailing, adrift.

Let me.

Hope

And just like that

inhaling and so on,

he used to

carry everything clumsily aroud
and ride a bike
and be real quiet




like recently riped wind-dropped apples

and windchimes.

And me growing mute each

time more and

yet daring to speak

and everything being so sacred

so half-speeded

making each move last

longer than the other





starting anew
each time we would leave
and each time we came
and stains imbedded upon.
and me I'm wistful.

Sure your body does that to mine
And the stirring of birds

And your smile is

heartbeats and pure blood

pumping
and your eyelashes flutter and each time they do it's

a choir's voice melting in the dark-singing in a cave
and fainting

with an echo

flowing

Oh how I loved you

and thy knees, thy wrists.


Shake the merry sun off
and make me merrier

Though me
I'm as

merry as one can be


I pray and
there's a garden

there,
and turmoil there

Lands shall

not break us apart

Rather pull us closer
through interwoven arms.

Fragment (Drought II)

Crystal.

nevertheless,
while this drought lingers,

I will enter a state of closuresealedrestrained

I will slide you into oblivion.
Let orbs flow elsewhere-not-here.

-

Construction.

of whichever material.
with one mission which is buildingafortressthatkeepsmeaway

-

Core

stands for the essence, the innermost part, the ethereal matter of one's self.
Which after all, lingers but hidden
In order to have a shine of its own, when time is proper.
And, then, the cue is given, and flowers thriveblossomgracefully

Drought

Water : you.

The drought was called beforehand, and now it's here.
I was given time
to taste
the few drops left.
They were colored turquoise.

I looked for them, and found them and enjoyed
and I do not regret,
but:

Dehydration
came quickly, almost instantly.
I covet
for more.

I've been here before.
It's a pattern. It's the same, the same.
I would lean into water,
to seek light, and hope.
And now it's gone.
And the never-ceasing slits ache and bite, sternfully, and again.
And they repeat. Over and over.

Drool, in pain.
Salt, and shocks, and heartbeats, and mud.

It will only get better.
It has to.


It most likely will.

And, soon,
the drought will be gone,
and a torrential outpour will invade this valley,
I will see the sight of hopeful, silver, luminous january rain.
and I will take water for granted again,
and I'll swim in turquoise-coated waters again,
and I will come back with those sideways glances,
and angels will play trumpets in unison,
and light will shine on,
and the wind will blow above our shoulders, and far beyond.

yearning...

Wooden

Wooden at first,
before made
into
a flexible
matter.

Putting on a show,
down on both knees.

from the unnecessary, to the essential.

Made of ooze. Moisture leaking from each pore.
Ebb
off.

Exude
me
off
this
place

Bodily functions are self-praised.

what could be more elastic than this?

you're being
s t r e t c h e d
and never breaking.
and pure fiction.
and heavy bruises.

Be reliable for once, and take full place of whichever object you're being poured into.