The Reason

Maybe one day
you will finally understand
or maybe…will be too late
but…let’s try, anyway
the reason that I drive so slow
when you are with me
it’s because I want more time
with you by my side
telling me about your past
laughing over me, cos how silly I can be
just to see
you smilling
the reason that I sleep so late
it’s cos I can’t hear your heartbeat
and your hand to hold, when I wake up
from a suicidal nightmare
the reason that I change my style of poems
from depression and suffering
for love and pretty things
it’s cos I found in you my muse
hope…this is not too late…
to you understand


About moments and poems, some lines about midnight inspiration and your contribution

I looked around
everybody just lose their life
looking down,
to a cold screen
tired of seek
I just stop, believing
that I never will find
someone good enough
to love like I like
but, for my luck
I found you in this insane
great big crowd
some tears fell
and a scream from my heart I heard
“do something!” he screamed, so loud
poems, silly jokes
I am was so nervous
and felt so jealous
“How she be so calm
with all this insane storm
that I throw against her
talking about Netflix and cooking
about how I love
to stay
wake up late
thinking about the perfect rhyme
to the next morning poem…”
yes, ma’am
maybe I am a little “crazy”
or complicated, but it’s so easy,
to calm me down, to chill
all that I need…it’s you

Black Sheep

Anxiety, heresy from this sad modernity
society that lives by morality of ambiguity
liquid society
no more chains, no more concrete
shallow words can’t touch you into your deep
creep, shit, crap, gap, sad, sleep
use to be a black sheep
fingers pointed to a red eye
black and blue makes this face looks like
a rainbow of a sad night
that keeps alive
the momentuum that we understand
the anxiety is the fuel of this statement
a hymn without lyrics, only lament
of this “big data” that we keep feed with malevolent

Ghost and his point of view ( pt. 26 )

My soul was black, like as night now
only sparks of fake happiness
but like every morning, only one presence
my conscious talking about sorrow
“maybe I will be fine tomorrow”
but every single minute is like the last second
thinking about a fake past
pretending a better future
forgetting the importance of the present
“hope dies last”
who said it, deserve a compliment
better lie to everyone
than believe in a shit alone

With (out) You

A field with dead flowers
a broken clock that no works more by hours
a poison that run thru veins and heart
the fool that believe is smart
a Sun without moon to shine thru night
the sad who need to smile
the head that bow not for a king
but to a screen
a kingdoom without a queen
it’s my heart without you here with me…

Phoenix, how to kill it?

My sins are like a phoenix
they come from the ashes that I burn
and this shit keep coming
I never learn
I try to turn
these filthy pages, expunging
my worst me, my sins
but they keep coming, and consuming
my force
but… have I another choice?

Short lovers

Short story
a tragic ending
full of mystery
without a beginning
cos nobody remember
the start of fire, some people care only with the ember
large fire can burn a forest
the little warm of ember will only warm the skin
little, like the hope in the promise
of “love forever”
so, I saw a lot of “short lovers”
and I remember the lines that Emily Dickinson wrote
thanks God that she doesn’t lived this long
to see how wrong
we end this story that, with “short love”
we wrote…like a drunk poet