My tears are melting at your touch! Condensation of sporadic sunsets cause to calm impulses Sunset of indifference, sunset of secrecy, and perhaps sunset of myself. I can hear the voice of my footsteps, somewhat condemned to fondle the sweetness of my thoughts. It’s night for my footsteps and day for my dreams ostentation, deviations from what rationally means. It is time for a style lesson. And thus a sum of desires and speculations reside in me, hypothesis without depth to attract the absolute.
No ! I don’t want to provoke cynicism, I don’t want to bring mediocrity and I don’t want to die just like that! Just apparently. Anyway, I can’t control the words that come from my mind. I can’t kill them! And so I sit in the ether of my loneliness and I « produce words»… words streaked with love, maybe with hate because I wake up with the low notes of my suffering. The words taunt me, dream with me and live through what we call soul. The only stone, always soft which gathers under it’s apparent roughness the agony and the hypocritical freeze of my happiness which brings the suffering that I was talking about earlier. I don’t want to live a life frightened by fate’s negative subjectivism. Yet there is a « but ». I listen to time… I mimic whispers that… I will reveal, are alive. They exist. It is, after all, night… and no one, no one but her, caresses me with imperial decor for my self interior. I flip a coin. Ah! Bad luck this time as well. I remain soft in their wide area of effect they have over me and they prove once more that they do not love me. Once again they touch a weak spot, once again I hurt myself… I take if from circumstance.
Let’s get back on track. Nocturnal frame… pure, impure? No such thing. It’s the nude and worrying truth. I’ve gone on too far, I’ve run around in circles of interior questions, oppositions and trying to find answers. Because too many questions begin with «why? » and end with «I don’t know!», I feel that I’ve struggled too much. It is indeed laziness but they have awakening meanings which have revived me to my mortal status. Only dreams have a future. Perhaps life is forgetting about yourself, but dreams help you find yourself.
Symbiotically, love which my thoughts give it to me is a reason for running! I like being ironical and I should let you know it is an aphrodisiac! Thus, I emotionalize love as an opera show. My subconscious has perceived the reaches of pleasure and is a witness to this phenomenon. It is pleasantly wrapped, the label guarantees me of it’s long warranty, and I remain manipulated and blown by the wind as a mortal. In infinity, in too much plausibility, in the stubbornness that happiness is the meaning of life and that exists. Watcher… I observe this enormous show, I applaud and I see only the appearance and not the work in the back-stage. That’s why I talked about symbiosis. And I find it somewhat superficial, a made-up heaven, false, and trusting that we will bite from the apple. And in the end we will die! Love… a taboo subject, to violate by intimacy, by sense. Its main verbs are: to mean, to dominate and to deform existentialism’s necessary rationality. Covering dies, the flame keeps burning and there will only be ash. That’s about the negativistic approach of the posture of «spectator». But there is white and black chocolate and they are both sweet! The indigo of white chocolate also duplicates, do not fright! I speak about sensitive souls, about attitude in approaching and even about essence. Myself, a fan of the Italian love song, I eat a lot of white chocolate. Figuratively, sunshine! And I try to fly, not to walk. Everything which is related to dreams persists; fingerprints… clues and analysis, basically shyness. Shyness of fate that doesn’t spoil me with this happiness. All I have left is my dreams, my good conscience friends that use their free time to make me drunk. With water! See? It’s not an impact, it’s innocence and eagerness to reveal what is right. It appears that I an seeing shadows! And it is even my own among others. Tormented as well by the monstrosities that I have conceived. It’s my soul mate! No, no no…
I have this impression sometimes… as if I discovered this precious thing, and unique in perfection. But somehow reserved because destiny isn’t so kind to me… I took a bite from the apple and I died for eternity, so I thought for that moment. I am here. That means that I have revived and being such a manipulated form of life I want to bite again. What if I die for good? So what? At least after that it isn’t a made-up heaven anymore. I aber.. I’m not going to die. I’m sure. But another voice says « Do you really think that?» And that’s how a feeling degrades another and words make me dizzy and… I still have to survive.
Apparently… love is salt and pepper or too much sugar. But what is it’s essence? Sweet? Of jasmine or pink freesia? Of a lot of truth and little lies? Or maybe cream and chilly pepper? I would die of laughing if it was neither of these. I am being sarcastic, I know. It is a passion taken to the extreme and more than anything it is life. My words live through that essence. I wonder if they have felt the thrill. I think that they have even loved and only want to make me understand that these in love words are not mine, and when they will be mine, and when they will be my sweet and adorable words then I will be reborn in an euphoric and childish ambient for the essence of my life. Then I will weigh existentialism as how too much I see and I don’t understand why. Is it an equation too complicated for me? For the moment, maybe so, but can you see? Love… the only thing that can be divided infinitely without getting smaller… love which monopolizes even a tiny droplet… is misunderstood and «apparent» when you have not felt it, but you have time to see it more profoundly.
Love, and you will understand why!