Caught in a Bubble

It's that feeling

a silent moment

when you try to see the right choice

Inside or Outside?

There's this man I know

There's this man I know
He lives downstairs
He asks me Who I Am every time he sees me entering the building
But he smiles like he recognizes
the past

And he is always surprised
Am I really who I pretend to be

Who Am I

I tell him again, being a bit insecure
I'm not sure if he really doesn't remember anything

That's so neat, you are so young and talented, he says
He says that every time
He doesn't know me at all

Now he doesn't get out as much

I've heard he's lost his appetite
I'm not sure if it's because his memory fails him
or he just doesn't like the food anymore

Sometimes, if you're not afraid to look into his eyes
You can see someone else
watching you

When I wake up

and I'm really, really tired

I look in the mirror

and it seems that my eyes are smiling

at me

as if they had

a life of their own

BeTV

Shy means courage.

Dispatch

i write to much
about i
and myself
dissipate the word into a thousand more

and getting back
used
to my selfless self

and then again i could sing
about fish and elephants
and their careless naive trust
in the ever lively coloured thrust.

but nothing is too so
or too not
or too very or too sought
gold is another invention of our ailing glowing eyes secured by the sun

so, please, close your eyes
and see over the night
illusion shouldn't have stage fright

Down the RaBBit wHole

Creating the whole. Creating the dream. Catching the eye of your doubt. A dust-speck-of memory is enough for all. Happily ever-now. I miss my changing perspective on the world.
Stuck with an alluring smile. Hopefully.

How far does a rabbit dig its hole?

Crowds make a scene

I relapse
collapse
in this happiness that chokes me

I dream
in between wakes

I lack lucidity and all is white
as the snow that will come
as the sun that had passed

I laugh a hundred fowls
and make myself a giant ear

I cash the rest of all
and sew my pocket

This is where I end

Idle

she spills the cup with dreams and wakes up
birds are flying far away
and some paper mill disturbs the perfect silence in her perfect morning

it's in those drops of rain and in that enlightening fog

it's in the lime greenish spring grass
and in the sigh that fills the wind
and in the water that shines the sunset away
and in that boat that takes my thoughts across the bridge
an uneven pass
in that blink of eyes that loses the game
and in that fish that scares your favorite tenor frog
and in the colors that imagine rainbows everywhere you look
and in the hand that holds it all

i live in a postcard
i love to live in a glossy print
to hide in one moment that means nothing
but it keeps me alive

i live in a photograph that I could never take

where do you live?