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Ahem…

Holy fucking shit….look at my scores!!!

You know.

Every road, raindrop, curve.

My memory cristal clear, glasspane between now and then.

Eidetic, electric.

The engine still running, my queen Chevrolet bee.

Too long a distance between.

Still there depths and pillars, altar of love lost and found.

Rekindled flame, rain never ending turnin to snow.

I remember you, silence and smile and impossible things before dawn.

The clock, the sounds, digits and limbs.

Here in my car, pitch black on a road that lead nowhere until…

The day I met you.

I can’t describe the change…but I can write down the start of the end.

Can I?

The road always goes on, and delivers.

You just have to travel and never stop.

You’ll be tired and you’ll be wishing many things left behind you.

Regret them not.

All you need is within yourself until the engine groans.

Rain pouring.

Silence black in the alley.

Cold set of keys in your hand.

Flat deserted of light.

Quiet steps, breath held.

Bed of giants, rocks of dwarves.

Man sleeps while my mind rambles of ends and means.

Soft breaths, solid warmth.

Cinder and soot.

4766

Sono nel momento di mezzo.

Così la vedo.

Il problema è non rimanerci incastrata…

Sapevo che non sarebbe stato facile smettere di scrivere…

Continuerò ad avere daydreaming ogni giorno e per quello non c’è cura…

Crisi di astinenza come queste sono peggiori di altre…

Sopratutto quando tutti i giorni un terzo del tuo cervello rimane lì a filare e tu sai che sono buone storie, ma sai  anche che non hai più il tempo per scrivere. 🤦‍♀️

You win and you lose.

Truth of every fraction of time spent on this Earth.

A misty morning is the promise for a radiant sunny afternoon, you just need to climb where the rain doesn’t drop.

Sometimes this never comes to fruition for you don’t want to.

So comfortable in your cashmere coat and the constant sound of rain, so perfectly happy with your thoughts made in heavy lead.

You search light and warmth when you’re unhappy, then you’ll move.

Just don’t stop yourself at the first ray, go straight for the supernova and be blinded.

You talk nosense. You are the noise.

I talk of love lost.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6 § 7 § 8

4759

Why do I dream of you?

4757

I can’t write anymore

I can’t read anymore.

Life devoid.

Your hand in mine.

Little flame.

Tiny speck.

Aurora borealis

I like to travel roads forgotten.

Gravel crunching and savage greenery deep.

There is lack of noise beneath leaves.

The road winds upon the hill like a coiled dormant snake under no sun.

Thoughts become louder every step of the way, muddy footprints in the labyrinth.

Water trickles, warm fog sticks on your coat.

Sometimes, while I walk a new street I stop and watch.

I try and imagine how would be to live there opposed to the city, the best apartment money could give.

I choose silence and difficulty.

My answer sure lacks logic to you.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6 § 7

6/? Liquid gold

I like the waters far below.

Cold, dark baritone enthralling.

Home of complex subjects that need to be thought extensively in contralto phrasing and uttered in sparse murmured word.

I can stand higher cords but just so.

Water trickling down, plinking.

Rain, laughter of the Gods, muffling the sounds of this city.

Good will of old drowning us in sanctity.

The current in the river diluting pains forgotten.

Washing away layer upon layer until the rock at the bottom glints.

Copper veins in the grey.

Why do you smile?

As this place wastes away we shall leave to return.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6

This is no medical condition.

Sometimes is better to have a conversation inside your brain then hear a shit ton of today’s music.

Noise…that’s screeching noise, darling.

Fairly simple to do, actually.

Shut all of your devices, not standy, SHUT THEM OFF.

Don’t worry you can live without them…your smartphone doesn’t make your heart beat nor your mouth eat.

Paper, pen, brain.

They won’t bite you, try to think with your mind.

Sometimes the harshest of sounds and sensations are inside yourself.

You won’t comprehend them at first, it’ll be just a matter of time.

And you’ll discover water depths.

Treacherous, never ending.

Mother’s womb.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5

That’s disgusting.

Rolling my eyes, putting one earphone on.

I tell you what’s disgusting: the level of noise in this goddamn city!

Noise…what noise?

I watch him for a full split second like he sprouted a second head.

Then I shake mine and start to walk past blaring clacsons, people shouting on their smartphones held far from them, dogs barking and messiahs preaching the end of something.

My notepad still totally pristine…proof of continuous interruptions.

The place where I come from is the total opposite of this hellhole.

People here fear silence or essential harmony.

They fear everything different than noise.

Sound of life gone to waste makes you deaf.

Mercifully coddling you into one direction and this one only.

I hate this city.

You couldn’t hear a coin drop in water.

Or a person scream.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4

Poised with a dilemma there are many roads you can take.

Steel cages and wings, yours to decide and mine to debate.

Still too much noise in my ears, unbearable city.

Wonderful in its diversity, unfeeling but supreme.

Time in double speed, piano strings waterfall.

Exquisite food that I can’t tuck into.

No one could eat with someone watching, waiting to strike.

The ice-blue in those eyes stepping onto my bones, grinding my teeth.

Done with this, chair creaks backwards.

Question time…shoot.

He looks surprised, taken back from a dirty dream.

Smile on my lips, napkin on my legs, no doubt it was dirty.

Won’t you eat?

A look, that’s all I need to shut him up.

I have a regret in front of me.

The perfect steak on my plate.

Bloody and rare.

Going cold.

1 § 2 § 3

2/? Mind gap

City of steel and glass.

Madhouse.

No way I will sleep.

It wasn’t fate, no.

It was human error.

Mismatched rooms…it looked too good to be true.

Still too tired, barely awake, perfectly able to comprehend.

A new key and already the thought of sleep.

Pair of ice-blue eyes, unintelligible.

I would like to buy you dinner.

Do I want to? Would I like it? How the heck could I know?

The depths I can’t see, things I don’t know.

Words out of my mouth with no filter. Now it’s too late.

He doesn’t smile, not with his eyes. Tomorrow then. I insist.

Thought process of a split second that feels like a whole bloody month of accusations.

Yes.

1 § 2

1/? Water

Another big town.

Same set of eyes, journey made of thoughts.

Streetlights on, shops never closed.

Avenues and bridges over water singing in the rain.

A pristine notepad in my Eastpak, stages in the back of my mind.

Earphones thunder loud in my ears.

For this city is noise and life, chaos unordered.

No void corner to hide, no place to park.

High palaces in the cloudy sky.

And the rain…oh the rain.

Low is my voice underwater for I’m sure

I’ll see you still with no light.

Laugh God.

1 § 2

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