The clock is but a death
with a white collar,
a death which enters
every nameless man\'s house
to gather his riches
and keep them close
to its wooden chest.
Death is but a snake
disguised
We streched ourselves to the other side of the world...
You used to put the sky across my body,
So I wouldn\'t turn cold while you were away.
We caught a whole universe with the embrace
Taken
In cold sweat you will begin,
Your mistake is just a treasure;
A weak jump to olden skin
They won’t find the time to measure.
Our lines are filled with wax,
Our blood is made of paper;
Write a
The moonbeam grabbed you by your thatch,
melting within you its craters, its mystic thrill…
How did you linger throughout these ages
without your fangs feasting on the voluptous thighs?
Look at
I was born to carry a star on my shoulders
until the twilight of the mighty anguish
and then, I shall deny it, wretched,
just like I would deny a bitter cluster,
while all I\'ve carried on my
I wandered for eternities
Through rooms haunted by thoughts
I only chose a pair of words
To write with them on my heart
I stamped it with my bitter ink,
Slowly pressing my name on it
Alongside,
Sinking slowly in the ashes of existence
And still you\'re rising like those feeble stars,
Your feather withers in a weak enigma
From all the flaming dust that dripped upon you,
A totem so
I am the poet of the rotten pillows.
On eyelashes,
when the sweet slumber goes down,
The common waking rises
And the cavern chambers are dancing.
I am the poet of the rotten pillows.
My
do you remember the snow-bound nights
when the flakes wandered the skies
like shallow doves
and you seemed, just like them,
overwhelmed with dreams?
my eye\'s darkness gazed upon you
from its
We are like a thorn in the ribs of the Earth
with our customs, mere ideals of clay
we smear ourselves with dust and frost
within our bodies, our bones, rusted by time, are snapping.
The grass
crystal icicles
fell on the hill
which we used to climb
without shadows
to disturb our walk
you tore me
with your frozen hand
whispering shards of ignorance
you suffered
in the arms of
Teach me, my beloved, how to spill wax on your eyelids
for I shall stop you from seeing this universe,
from kissing the monsters of the fake words
around gardens and desolated booths,
because,
I lie on the back of the austere space
with my face stooped
at those who didn’t know how to swim
in their inner tears
pity the clear days
whereby the Cosmos seemed
a little canvas
so many
The bezel of my mind
cleft lights,
one more powerful
than another,
carving the clouds
for them to flow
into my heart.
And I reached glitters
in my ocean
of immortality.
I tear the
it is senseless and worthless
to fill the chalice with bitter tears
you cannot run in the world’s desert
just one glance in the window
and you are there
the metamorphoses of time are not
my lungs are filled with dust and asphalt
with relics and the reek of human bones
our flesh smells like another one’s flesh
and a slimy liquid drips
on the skin that hides traps behind it
some
It rains agonic in the Easter\'s night
and I\'m feeling more godless
than Thomas.
Through the walls of my house
the rain makes a way for itself.
The building\'s ground coat
splits by the
I will no longer cherish marble faces
and neither will I beg for smiles
like other times
within furrows dug deeply
I will no longer open tombs of memories
weeping in vain
over some flowers
The longing for my beauty bends a lot
those saddened bones I have to carry straight;
from legs to brain in pieces they will rot -
with helpless stanzas you\'ll confound my weight.
It\'s hard,
If only you could draw in every night
like stars drew beauty on the vicious sky
your glance in shapeless thoughts and say “delight,
I grew in pain with eyes beneath your eye”.
Then throw your
The hills are black inside a deadly storm
And no one dares to look at their remains;
I guess the stars are now a sadly form
With shadows near and winter kept in chains.
Some trees are falling
I\'m drunk today, my lover, as I will be tomorrow
And when it will be Sunday I\'ll drink for our love;
I\'m bombed tonight, my sugar, as if I had to borrow
Some guns for my illusions with bullets
IP