Marti in Wonderland

Svegliarsi la mattina con qualcuno al tuo fianco.

(To wake up in the morning with someone by your side.)

She is so beautiful. I told her today, about it all. Should have I, should have I not? I don't really care right now, because she's sleeping in my bed.

I didn't know I enjoyed pain this much, not since today. It is a strange sort of pain, which hurts you in a pleasing way. So hug me, comfort me again. You look so beautiful. So tell me you're sorry, you don't want me in sorrow. There's nothing much to do about it anyway.

I watched the people flowing along the porches tonight, couples and miserables, the youngest and the eldest ran past, and every step was a second less to my departure.

Shall I forget you and leave this behind? Shall I admit it to myself and go on this way? The pure virtue of doubt.

But the touch, but the sight, all questions fade away and me myself melts.

I'll never get over this, I'll never do it I say. I'll be distant today, see what she does.

Se il buon giorno si vede dal mattino....

Here I am, back in bolo (yeah).
Just today is going to be a miserable day. How do I know it?
Well...yesterday night as I saw her beauty I realized (once again, please someone tells me how many realizations I have to go through before being done with this) that I'm hopeless. Not going to happen.
This morning I woke up and guess what? Another realization, my incetive to go to lesson is not my incentive anymore, actually it never should have been. Ends up I'm sad and start thinking how stupid I am, making the same mistake everytime, depending on people when I have no right in one case because even if she wants to give me what I want, well dear you can't, in the other case because...well there has never been anything between me and the boy, it was just me wishing there could be, denying reality itself. But Marty how much do you love denying reality and go hide in the corner of your head in your ideal beautiful perfect world?! I love it much, that doesn't mean it's right. Actually it's not at all.
And at the end I always wonder: will I ever be able to stand up on my own. Try to believe, but I don't feel like trying yet.
This my friends is what I mean for vicious circle.
Have a nice day, nicer than mine that is!

Strano quello che puoi trovare sfogliando vecchie agende cominciate e mai portate a termine.

Questa...."poesia" risale al 25 marzo di quest'anno (a quanto pare) ore 2.35 del mattino. Ho provato a pensare in quale situazione l'ho scritta. Precisamente non saprei ma mi son fatta una vaga idea. Comunque, eccola.



I was expecting you tonight

at the place I knew you'd be

as the times of an almost past

at which I'm looking at with hopeful eyes.



And so you were where I could find you

I forgot about everybody else

as I saw you leaning by the wall

I want to make you mine



Whenever you'll look for me

if it will ever be

I won't give up a chance

forever back to you I'll come.



And minds ride unexisting roads

and eyes shut respectfully

just knowing I'll always be yours.

Now I'm writing some

in a heavy drunky night.

Mamma mia, qualcosa mi dice che questa cosa è stata scritta dopo una serata in Sala a suon di caipiroske e mcfarland gratis. Non so se ridere o piangere, vabbè....

Dead Wooden Bodies

Crackle, as you embrace dead wooden bodies
whitehot brands burn their dry skin
setting its cells on fire
making their hearts beat the last pulse.

Sparkle as the surface turns to ash
resting itself sleepy on blackness
and a smoky breath climbs gravity
to vanish in the air in an everlasting memory.

Your warmth cuddles me deeply inside
as November runs coldly outside the window.
Now put me down to sleep
as those dead wooden bodies you hold tight.

Enlighten me for the last time
so I can warm up the lonely ones,
and I'll sparkle in ash dancing down towards blackness
and I'll climb gravity as my least memory fades in the whole nothing.

m.

Ok. Questo avrei dovuto postarlo due settimane fa, ma siccome sono pigra la posto ora.

Sono a casa. Scendo dalla macchina, mi guardo intorno, lascio trapelare un sospiro, aspettando impaziente l'invenzione del teletrasporto.
Prendo le valigie. Chiudo lo sportello. Cammino verso il portico.
Entro e poso le valigie, posso permettermi di lasciarle un attimo poi dopo cena con calma le porto su, così la mamma non deve sforzarsi a farmi da facchino.
Sento il tepore caldo che viene dall'angolo dove c'è il camino, quel che è rimasto dei ceppi continua a bruciare in un pallido rosso brace.
A sinistra del camino Oscar si stiracchia, non mi ha ancora visto.
Oggi non ho voglia di fare la difficile e aspettare che mi noti. Così lo chiamo, ora mi ha visto, mi saluta con un miao. Quando apre la bocca vedo il dente sporgente brillare. Tutto regolare. China la testa tigrata e la allunga verso la mia mano. Accarezzo il suo pelo liscio e lucido lungo tutto il suo dorso, arrivata alla coda stringo un po' la mano, raccogliendo i peli caduti, poi li getto. Lui continua ad allungare la testa. Non ne riceve mai abbastanza.
Mi spiace per lui ma dovrà avere pazienza, devo prima togliere residui di treno dalle mani e accendere il fuoco.
Mi siedo sullo sgabello e prendo l'attizzatoio, raccolgo quel che rimane dei pezzi ormai arsi e li ammucchio, soffio via la cenere da sopra la brace, sistemo i ceppi spenti nei pressi della brace e quelli interi ancora sopra. Lascio un po' di distanza tra l'uno e l'altro, così che l'ossigeno arrivi ai lapilli rossi, loro riscaldano il legno finchè questo non brucia. Prendo il tubo di rame e soffio tre volte. I ceppi scoppiettano. Poi soffio le ultime due boccate d'aria direttamente sul bracere. Lo scoppiettio si fa più fitto e tutto d'un tratto la fiamma si alza.
Guardo il fuoco e le lingue che danzano avvolgendo il legno in un tenero abbraccio d'amore incondizionato. La mia testa si svuota mentre osservo la danza, perdo ogni facoltà di movimento, pensiero. L'unico moto meccanico giunge automatico, alzo il braccio afferro un'altro ceppo a sinistra e lo pongo sugli altri. Poi riincrocio le braccia. Le ginocchia chine, i piedi saldi sul muretto del camino, le braccia consorte, il mento appoggiato su queste.
Per adesso penso che no penserò a nulla.

Oh no...not again

I thought I was over this...apparently am not. It's like having everything you want in front of you, but you can't grab it. I don't know if this is masochism or selfishness. Probably both of them. Whatever it is it's useless, and painful, but I can't stay away or I feel worse. The only way would be to accept the fact that this is not possible. Forget it Marty, not going to happen! You're so right, little man in the corner of my head. But i can't, can't do this to her (nor to me), not now, not ever.
I hope some distance will make it better. I hope some distance will make ME better. I really wish it was so, but don't know yet. I'm just going to discover though, genuary is closer than it feels.

listening to...Death Cab for Cutie "The photo album"