Ti voltasti all’incrocio e fui
io a sparire, a diventare la folla,
la fiumana che squassa contro i marciapiedi.
Quando sarò pronto, svegliami
I’ve already realized that I’m eating other’s sadness and misery.
It’s the worst thing to do, I know, but this is the only food I can eat.
It seems the honey because it’s sweet, then, sometimes, it becomes a little bit bitter, but I don’t care.
If I can’t be happy, why should you have to be?
I’m tired of sharing your rotten happiness.
I’m tired of many things: the sun, myself, the love not found, your smiles for him - that I should have been him.
I’m going to hate every thing that breaths and has bewildered eyes gazing me, bent and doubled up, with a skinny body touched by the finger of love, that’s death. I’m tired of building up altars and looking at them while all of you are destroying. I’m tired of the dawn that forces my eyes to open, and they catch fire.
I’m tired of the night and its warm darkness, but it’s enough because comparing it with mine, its darkness is a light.
I stopped to toe the karma’s line.
If he had to pay me damages, he would be broke.
I’m sad with the whisper of birds that has no more melody, even for a lament.
No one knows
I’ve already realized that I’m eating other’s sadness and misery.
It’s the worst thing to do, I know, but this is the only food I can eat.
It seems the honey because it’s sweet, then, sometimes, it becomes a little bit bitter, but I don’t care.
If I can’t be happy, why should you have to be?
I’m tired of sharing your rotten happiness.
I’m tired of many things: the sun, myself, the love not found, your smiles for him - that I should have been him.
I’m going to hate every thing that breaths and has bewildered eyes gazing me, bent and doubled up, with a skinny body touched by the finger of love, that’s death.
I’m tired of building up altars and looking at them while all of you are destroying.
I’m tired of the dawn that forces my eyes to open, and they catch fire. I’m tired of the night and its warm darkness, but it’s enough because comparing it with mine, its darkness is a light.
I stopped to toe the karma’s line.
If he had to pay me damages, he would be broke.
I’m sad with the whisper of birds that has no more melody, even for a lament.
-mjoshuam
Alone
If there’s a sort of god, probably he hates me
If the karma really plays, probably I was very bad in my previous life.
now anything exists, except for me, and no love, except for my empty soul that’s emptier than a desert at night when you’re more beautiful than during the day: with no mascara, nor red lips due to nobody looks at you but me; all of them don’t love the moon, they just want to love themselves as soon as possible.
And I’m lonely
Like the autumn leaf that leaves the leafy branch
And fall
On the strong hands of nothing
That grind it,
And it blows the pieces away,
Into the dawn
And they burn.
-michelejoshuamaggini
René Magritte, Le rêve de l'androgyne (The dream of the androgyne), c. 1938.
(via causalismo)
Pasolini intervista Moravia in “Comizi d'amore”, 1965.
Voglio farmi spazio nel vostro posto nel cielo
Non preoccuparti, ci sarà tempo per ridere.
Il poco che ho da offrire è il deserto in me e la sua sterilità nel coltivare amori.