* A World Alone *

That late afternoon silent moon gently crawled 
Across the vast blueish vault
Without the fainted stars, without smoothing clouds.

You bit my chest; I licked your wound.
We were sleepless, attempting to scoop
A piece of the world, a world full of poison.

Yet we insisted, drunkenly devoured.
Sugar melted caramel burning,
Ginger tea brewing with your nervousness;

We teased and ranted, talked about butter & bread.
Your words tittering, my mind danced. 
Caress as much as it could be.

That late summer night walked
Empty Bernard to the Jewish town
We thought we knew each other

But maybe we were both clueless,
Perhaps I was the unicorn
and you are somehow simply lorn.

Now that it’s all bygone I couldn’t
Burn all down
I keep dancing in this world alone,

Because we were all alone.
All the future and dream
All that delicacy on which we lean,

I am dancing in this world alone,
Because we are all alone.
We are all alone.

It’s not going to be everlasting, maybe,
But I set on to let it happen
Till one day my smile were gone though I still feel it wortheverything.

Get me still,
Get me distilled, millions of seconds passed but
That space time frozen like arctic glass.

I never imagined it getting rough,
We might make love
Which was what you think of

But now it’s all bygone,
I keep dancing in this world alone;
We are all alone. 

* Scar Tissue *

Susanna told me that scar tissue has no character.
They don’t age.
I heard organs don’t feel pain, mostly.
That’s how some people swallow objects;
Blade does not exist if you don’t feel the cut.

Embrace it.

But what about the heartache?
May be a nocebo
That exists only in fMRI scan.
Not paid by the insurance plan.
But stanza after stanza
Engraves the adversity
Onto the monument of our existence,
That is, our body,
As we move on.

Scar tissue has no character,
It made us a character.
And pain does not age.

* Youth *

The empty space you left permeates,
Infectious, hollows mind.
Frontier expanding,
A world vast and warmthless
Merges, 
Future starts.

I’m still breathing with corrupted lungs,
Chocked by the ashes that fall 
As the winter comes.
The lover that went wrong,
My name forgotten, blurry and gone.

I was the reckless, the only youth (between us)
Falling for that youthful dream that drowned in your leaden truth.

I knew you were bleeding (before all this),
But you are the lucky one.
Because the dying is the one that you think went wrong.

I am the one naïve youth that you will soon forget,
Left in the far field
With the blade still deep
Bury under the skin.
Missing the hand that
Once hold the grip.

I’m still missing.

After Daughter, Elena Tonra “Youth”

* Re:Romance *

‘’And in the night’’
With a drunken man lying down stairs
Conversation flied through the twigs as if there were only us
And she hooked me onto this thing called romance
In front of her friends’ house, used to.
I was dreaming,
It was sweet.
The voice so bright the moon lights between the lips
I felt the warmth of blood through my vein
Drifting off to love.
I promised myself that I would never lose her
My timid desire for a delicate she,
I’m scarred with fragile affection,
I thought of that sometimes.

Romance is now dead and done.
And it cut into my rib cage deep and sound
The breath of baby dead silent
And it cut into me between flesh and soul.

‘’I could begin to open up and risk desire
For I move slower and
Quieter than most’’
I’ve gone too deep too soon I still forget too slow
I wish it wasn’t that way but at least it’s you.

Touch me here
Dance to me
‘’I don’t care
If’’ it repeated
I want to be where you are
For all that I desired humble as it can be but last a bit further
Than that of a cut flower
So when I look at the stuff there still you are not gone

Flesh and soul
Deep and sound
Inside

*Recomposed from Ex:Re – Romance by Elena Tonra

* the existence of you *

All that I lost, I missed, and all that I’m missing.
But she is there, right on time.
In the stream of unlimited moments she is out there awaiting me to bump into.

What if I can’t see all her beauty,
What if it’s always not enough?

Any thing stimulates me; everything is about you.
Thirty-three autumns that past,
Last words of the three thousand years old sacred tree,
World that has yet to come,
Mysterious tingling. 

The tiny notes that remind me of the existence of a you.

(This work was partly done last October)