Ashes mixed with ink
under my skin
are not the way I choose to remember.
Instead, we stand
on this dusty border
still together, like I promised.
Perched on our horizon
we share the silence.
Our nostrils only just distracted
by the illusion of eucalyptus.
reminding the disciple
I feel like a morning
All I want to be
Is Water, Dripping in a Bowl.
Dal verde del fondo
l'apnea si trasforma
nutrimento le alghe.
Respira il relitto
la carena sorride.
Sottocoperta, se cerchi bene
c'è ancora la scorta di spirito
dal bucaniere con la barba.
Rughe di sangue nel bianco
Gli occhi che fanno vedere
Si fanno guardare
E non osservano più
Regole specchio di un'anima
Linda svuotata di quello che viene
Da chi riconosco lontano da me
e nessuno può dire
Nulla su dove mi porta
Quel fiume di vene
Quel vacuo spazio di fango
Mappa di strade smarrite
Le vie che il deserto deride.
Perso a guardare
allungo la mano a toccare
Orizzonte di verde.
Sento la vita che trema
mai potrei essere altrove.
Bagnata di sollievo
She rises to sit on the edge of her world
The cloud-white sheets hide red shame
A drifting ship that just won't sink, nor forgive or forget
Ferries it all back to the space in her mind.
She turns to smell unwanted memories
The fingers she never meant to dip
In tar-like depths that crush and wreck
Each breath, until the last.
The mother of all violence gives birth
To lack of alternative vision
The nonsense of difference will change
Every form of warmth into rape.
If she had chosen to stay old
Like the sea, her waves silvery
But really mercury,
Heavy cancer flowing through my lungs
The right to a vision
Is freedom's greatest sin.
Take my hand, it's over:
Will you ever trust again?
I knew it...
And I could kill for just a glimpse
Of the faintest shade of pink.
Now I have paid the price, I am running on empty. And really, I'm not running at all.
If I had learned silence when I was given the chance, all would be quiet and much more controlled.
I yearn for noise-fasting, though I fear that somehow I'll be forgotten.
I call on myself as I shake, hoping that somehow the pieces will fit,
that nothing is lost, though this can't be.
Imagine the elderly lady you know, who lives down your street.
She's bent and she's weak, she picks up her bags
her shopping is scattered, you can't see what's happened,
you know she could cry.
Look at her. She's me.
Look at my shame. And now?
It all goes white as I fall...