GATE

No grip. Just flow. Up to the end. To came back to the start.

If there wasn’t grip in that world I would have been there.

If the water wasn’t salty I would never been alone.

Give me your grip, take my hand, I m falling down toward the stability.

Slightly I am going to stop. Slightly I am going to die.

If I only could listen the nature I would never drunk alone.

My hand slightly touches the water of a river. I feel the vibration, you feel the grip. They called love.

I don’t want to stop, the world will spin again, the moon will pass again over our heads.

The last breath will be yours. I will never stop, even if there is the grip. Even if you are calling it love.

I will run until my tears will be yours.

Scarlett

Hot, closeness.

Windows close, the water of air-conditioning paints the street with lazy stripes.

You look distant, I follow you.

The blacktop is blending under my feet, step by step I came back to the starting point.

I raise my eyes, you laugh, you already knew. Here there are no starts.

I am asking me if is possible to live without sky, the moon dies behind a skyscraper.

Far away an odor wakes up my mind, while the river is cleaning our bodies.

Empty bottles of our memories became the stage of a party. The smoke is scratching my eyes.

I try to breath, but I hear just noise.

Trees, instead, are living, happy and suffering to give us shadows. They silent are waiting our end.

You asked where we were going ?

I hope nowhere.