The Endorphin sleeps deep naps, until a twinkle of cry arrives to wake him, wrapped in crumbs of kindness. He does not stand still at all that takes place in the universe, he just listens carefully to every Echo that has the addiction of Pure Smile.
I offer the same drugs as many years ago , and their quality has not deteriorated any of the changes.
I’m there for you, even when you’re too detached to admit it, holding your palms in my hands when I whisper that no matter what, it’ll be fine .
Smile, how much you think that would cost you, especially when you have nothing else left to do.
The Endorphin, he stands foot over foot leaning against a musty-smelling backrest, waiting for you to overwhelm him with the dark thoughts that have clouded your sunny spring mornings. He filters your touches and sends back to you relentlessly and free of charge a good thought to keep in bad weather, to banish your clouds and to bring you warmth in the sky to which you are looking.
I’m there for you, even when you don’t need me, you just need to think about my stories from time to time.
A spring breeze caresses my body and then slams me to the ground in a deep dream. A bird chirping carries me exactly like a guide down a corridor , into a house where I step in fear on the rotten wooden floor. A creak of the door, that’s all I hear in this coma induced by this wretched season to which I aspire more and more with each passing year. I’m waiting for you, even in this dream . The squeak must have been, however, only the longing to find yourself faster in any of the worlds, because nothing opened before me, nothing closed behind me. I stayed on sad and ponderous, hanging from the dream like a chandelier hanging directly from the sky, with a candle in each abode, a candle for an unfulfilled desire, with a husband, without a husband, loves me, does not love me. A candelaru standing to fall on the slippery floor and gnawed by the weather of memories. But … but what do you hear? The squeak continues… I approach the window, I can barely keep my eyes open as I look at the forest in flames and smoke. I call you, thinking that you have managed to find this thought that sent me into the dream in which I hoped to find you too. Now I’m starting to hear a muffled voice coming from the wall next to me. A cold chill reminds me running down my spine that there might be a trace of you . It’s me, scattered in the wind, it’s me, and it’s not me anymore. I have no idea where I’m going, and I don’t even know why I’m there. I was born of sin and I know myself with sin. Empty waves sweep over me. The hard time is running out. With silent screaming I wait for your kiss. A shadow I am, a night, a long wait. There’s flame and smoke. Stay, stay? Leave? Drive me away if you want. Don’t tie your soul to me! Drive me away! Be alone! Think this is the end! I could feel the pieces of you growing painful scars on my cheeks aged by the time I lost looking for you. The wounds grew deeper and deeper in my fists with which I tried in vain to crush the wall, painted as if with my blood, in search of the kiss meant to control my lust for you. I miss you so much that even this dream allows me to feel your cold breath from the border of our lights that have never deigned to meet. Cold nothings to whisper to me. A Sky has collapsed, how broken it hurts. And then I heard your call. It’s my place here or nowhere. Love me! Kill me with you, for I swear, I miss you so much! I’m tired in my attempt to break through the wall and fall to my knees bumping into the rot on the floor. I choose a thought so simple and pure that I blend it into this dreamy crumb. I’d like to touch you slowly, hold you by the neck and whisper to you in my desperation to be Saved, Save Me ! It awakens me from the state that lies to my senses that I sleep. I feel your anxiety and it’s night between us. I’m gonna crash the shit out of you. But be it! That it’s just a dream, and that’s it. It’s just a dream. Just get through with a kiss to the other side of the night. And walk away from the wound untied. Wings write to you in the tattered Sky. And may your flight spring, unhindered by my late shadow. And I wake up to the rustle of the barely budding trees that were trying to snatch me from the rest of this dream. I look around, but apart from a trace of you left pressed over the lip of the wine glass thrown across the corner table, there’s nothing. I know only the warm spring cold that warms my soul when I always leave with my thoughts in search of the desperate need for you. So much fierceness in the hands of the tried. Did you sit and listen to the wind? It tells you a murmured story from here and everywhere. It starts with there was once, when I looked at you …otherwise, when I penetrated your inquisitive eyes. My cheeks lit up and I trembled slightly. You pressed your left cheek against mine and shook my hand. Listen carefully, because it reminds you where to find me. I built walls out of fears and now they rot. Let them fall, utter the answer, it will ignite the thought…how tender it must be… How beautiful is the thought in which I remember your every breath. So profound is this paradox in which I seek the way to you by stepping back into the cold, dark world where I thought I would find you. The rot that caresses your wall built around the enchanted land , where for the first time I felt you so close. Even the taste of your lips on my body lies here as a sign of the struggle I lose every time I turn to you. What tender music comforts my heart when I sit and listen to your breaths. And you don’t even exist.
And I don’t even exist. I’m not here, there, anywhere. And I don’t even exist! Like the kiss you never gave me, like dreams don’t exist. You’ll never know who I am. Because then you will break the clouds, the night, the darkness … you’ll turn the sky into shards of stars to find me! You’ll never find me because as long as you wait, I don’t know who I am anymore. I have scattered in flowers and lost in songs, I have thrown myself into swirling waters on shiny stones and I utter your name when the moon lights up Lantern. Call Me Too, speak my words, and I will answer you, comfort the wind, and I will incarnate from the fire. I’m closer than you think… Abstract is the painting painted with memory of feet bathed in the sand of the seaside, where I looked for you too long ago. So is the aged forest with its slightly overgrown branches that strangle my home rot in a bitter farewell kiss.