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VulcanoI polpastrelli graffiati dalle rocce porose, nere, gonfie fino al cielo che annotta e i piedi, immersi nella cenereVulcano
grigia e calda dell’eruzione di mill’anni fa
nulla da dimenticare mentre le lucciole salgono sciamando nell’altro mondo, sotto al mare, fedeli inneggiano al miracolo del Santo alla manna e all’avvenire ma qui è calma, e frinire estivo e un inchino solenne alla luna, piena, di già.
by ~raisingedge
I promised not to tellI promised not to tell what I felt when the first glimpse hits my eyes out of our hidden playground the bear cave, out of the warmth right in this winter.I promised not to tell
So I believed your hair and your beautiful figure I believed the stories - and the tales.
Enough. Of words, of utterances. I’d prefer to watch your hands, your fingers on me, mine dancing on your knees in silence, just waiting.
And the wind shakes wet lonely trees while my car turns back home &
by ~raisingedge
Myselfby ~raisingedge
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deviantID
| Always looking for beauty and innovation. More an art observer than an art producer, I sometimes write poetries. |
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'Now go out there and get yourself killed.Kill every single piece of the person you used to be.It's a wild, wild world out there,shouldn't be that hard.'-
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