beyond existence there's life

I have tried to find  shape made of words for what I feel now. You told me that I always know what to say, but it's hardly the case.

There are moments in which life inspires me, and then words flow like champagne in my head and I could write for hours and each single thought would make sense to me.

sometimes I am empty. Nothing in me, nothing out of me.

One single moment like electricity passing from one soul to the other and the thin unawareness implodes creating a feeling you can't understand.

I don't care understanding anything. I want to feel.

Understanding kills my emotions and I am made of emotions. 

I feel trapped.

I need to open my wings and fly, burn myself with the sun, crash on the ground. But not having my light being blown off like I would be a candle.

You crossed a path.

I was on that path.

Call it coincidence, statistic.

I call it destiny.

I believe the half of me is out there and if I follow the common sense I am never going to find it.

What matters is feeling.

Feeling until we can.

Feeling pain, pleasure, happiness or despair, that's not important.

The important is that if with your words, your voice, your presence, even for a minute you make me feel alive, that minute will be a minute actively lived.

I want to live. Existing is not enough.

I have been forced, abused, brainwashed, I have known fear, hate, filthy passion and desperate happiness, and it all went. 

You are the sun today, you can chose to shine a while for me, still being innocent even if we are stealing apples from the knowledge tree, you can chose to send me back to black.

I will have just missed a chance.

So will you.

I am not able to write all these emotions on a line. I have let the wind come in and they'are all messed up now. 

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NOTE OF THE AUTHOR: I am going to rest now, up to the late night hours

I need some sleep

I don't feel like working or writing or moving at all today.
I am thinking about a lot of things and nothing.
I am thinking about the way I am hiding, to protect other people and therefore denying the fact that I am not like they want to see me.

I am a coward and I am afraid of losing the privilege of a comfortable life.

But I have had my dose of discomfort in the years that passed.
I have been fighting with all kind of things and persons, I have been on the edge of losing all, I have played with my life like in a discreet Russian roulette I was the only one being aware of and I have shut a lot of doors behind me.

I'm paying that now. The doors I have closed cannot be opened anymore, they are doors made of a thick unbreakable glass making me face the chances I have burned every day. I see them, beyond the glass and I can't do anything, I can't turn the time back and try again.

Sometimes I ask myself if what I feel can be called regret, but I don't think so. It's just a silent pain, something you can't describe with words, the awareness that my life is not going to be forever.

Death scares me. No...the void scares me. The silence scares me. Leaving...scares me.

That's why I stay where I stay and do what I do. Because I am so fucking scared.

There have been people trying to convince me that death is nothing to be scared about. Other people told me it's useless to be scared about something you can't change.
But I have seen it. I have seen it on the face of people I loved, I have seen it take away the only person who counted for me. And it was scary, it was cold, it was lonely, excruciating, inevitable and terrible.

Today I didn't feel like writing, but I am doing it because writing is the only thing that saves me from losing my sanity when I am in this mood.

I dreamed of spiders last night. All over my body they were coming out from my skin...thousands of them. I was terrified. I woke up in sweat, my breathe out of control and I couldn't fall asleep anymore.

Today I didn't feel like writing, but now that I am doing it I feel like I would be drinking and slowly falling into the soft warm oblivion of alcohol. Writing is better, you won't be out of service for three days afterwards, only a little bit slow and anesthetized but I can cope with that.

I don't know what I have to believe in now. I look at my hand and the lines on my palm seem to change their length and direction. I am hallucinating. I would like to be able to hallucinate some more and feel your hand touching my hair again, like in the past. Still I can't understand why it stopped. That made me feel so much better.

The more I calm down, the less my head can produce words and sentences. This post will be over in a few lines.

I have been able to survive the crash for twenty years and, believe me, twenty years is a fucking lot of time.
I would like a period of twenty years of being carefree to start right now, but I am not allowed so much time, and I am too drenched in my own convictions to allow myself a blank mind and just enjoy.
I am a cunt, but that's the way I know myself.
The last thing I need right now is looking at me without recognizing what I see.
Wherever I go, I can at least be sure that Boris, that old jerk, will not let me down.

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NOTE OF THE AUTHOR: I want to sleep...like 3 days without waking up. What the fuck.

Anaerobic breathe

Far from the city, behind a low hill, where a long time ago there was the shoe factory, there is now a gipsy camp.
I often go there for a walk, it's mostly a silent place.
Especially at night, the only thing you hear is the sound of a violin, playing the same melody, over and over again.

The person who plays this is really skilled I always say to myself but it's not only that, it's the melancholy, the struggle you hear in that music. I would like to see this passionate player.

A few months ago I was lying on the grass watching the sky and listening to the violin when the melody stopped.

After a while I heard silent footsteps in my direction and I sat up suddenly, ready to face whoever was coming towards me.

A man, I thought he was very young, even if I was not able to estimate his age.
His skin was pale and his hair seemed white in the moonlight.
His green eyes were wild at the point he seemed to be angry.

"I saw you. Every time you came here" he said, his voice was deep and didn't have any emotional intonation.
"What are you looking for?"

His aggression amused me.
"I am just relaxing and listening to music" I said smiling.

He frowned.
"The show is over. You should actually pay for it"
I raised my eyebrows in sarcastic disbelief.
"I see...was that you the one playing?"
"None of your business. And if you are smart you go the hell out of here"

without adding a word, the guy walked down the hill and disappeared in a silver caravan. I heard his voice shouting and the voice of a girl shouting back. After a while the girl ran out of the caravan.
The light was turned off and no sound could be heard anymore.

Once I came back to my apartment I took a shower standing under the hot water. I could not stop thinking about that guy. He was so thin he could be mistaken with a child but his deep voice and his harsh manners gave away he was a man, with a very bad attitude.
I smiled about how cocky he had come over to me.
I liked him.
I wanted to see him again.

The night after I went sitting on the hill again.
No sound could be heard, except the far noise of the city.

No violin. I thought disappointed.
I threw myself on the grass and I closed my eyes.

Suddenly I felt something jumping on me. At first I thought it was a wild dog or another wild animal, but the wild animal gripped at my shirt in a menacing way and I realized it was the wild boy of the night before threatening mounting me.

"Didn't I fucking tell you to stay away from here?"
I tried to get him off me but he was impressively strong.
"Why does it disturb you so much that I come here? I am not doing anything wrong...just enjoying the night."
"They don't like to have people watching them. Do you want to be hurt?"
I was really pissed off by this free low life attitude I looked at him without answering.

He got off me.

"I was just trying to protect you. Don't tell me I didn't warn you when something happens".

I realized that after that evening nothing would have been the same anymore.
I had to talk to him.

"I wanted to see you again" I uttered
Good Boris, that's the best way to inform him about your...preferences.
"I don't even know your name"

He looked at me. He didn't seem surprised, charmed or annoyed from the fact I could eventually like him.

"My name is Yura Semenov"
"I'm Boris. Boris Le Boursier"

He smiled. It was a smile of someone who is not used to be happy.

"If you promise to be very very silent, I am going to show you where I live. But don't!...don't say a word...ok?"
I nodded.

We quickly walked down the hill. I tried to walk in his footsteps, I had the impression that it would have made less noise that way.

The door of the silver caravan was open and the dimmed light inside was colouring the interior in warm tones.
Right behind the door there was a little kitchen and on the right there was a big couch covered with several layers of coloured fabrics. On the ground there were pillows and books in a very tidy disorder, I thought.

The walls were covered with drawings, mostly nude portraits: recurrent figures were a young woman and...me.

"What the..." I whispered remembering that I had promised to shut up.

He blushed.
"I am really surprised you never noticed me. I have been following you, since a long time. During the day, when you go read in the park, down at the City Hall Square, I come there and I draw you. That's why I wanted to warn you Boris...because in a certain way...I care about you"

He turned to the kitchen "Want something to drink?"
I nodded, he poured some kind of dark drink into a small glass taking one for himself too.
He gave it to me showing me the couch "Let's seat" he said.

In the caravan was very warm, I took out my jacket. Yura took out his blouse.
On his left shoulder there was a tattoo representing a  black sun.
He saw me looking at it.
"that's how they call me here întuneric soare, it means dark sun"

We drank. Yura explained me that the liquor was made by the Romani and it was made of plums, fruits and blossoms. The taste was a bit sour but it was sweet as aftertaste. I liked it.

Yura took a sketch book from the ground and he handed it to me, then he filled his glass again, I refused to have more and begun leafing through the sketchbook.
It was all drawings of me.
On the last page I was lying on the couch in the caravan naked, Yura on me.

I looked at him.
His green eyes were wild, a languid light in their depth.
That's what you have been dreaming of? I thought. He nodded, like he could have read my mind.
He crawled on my lap, like a wild cat.

He took away my shirt and begun working on my belt. When he finally got me naked he pushed me down on the couch and finished undressing himself.
He sat on me. He smelled of incense.
I was so high of his scent I was almost exploding.
He whispered words to my hear, words I can't remember, words like an hypnotic charm.
While talking he was kissing my body, licking my neck, his cold hands all over my heated body.

Sex tasted of far lands I've never been to. Spicy, harsh, sweet and desperate.
Our breaths were running after each other and our skins were like magnet.
We discovered each other until dawn came discreet to tell us it was time to stop the game.

We dressed quickly and we went back on the hill as silent as we had come.

"When will I see you again?"

While I asked him my head was a hurricane of emotions I could not dominate
...it's like you would be my oxygen and when you are not there I would stop breathing, waiting for the next time I can see you again...

He kissed me silent and he looked around furtive "tonight...I want you again...come tonight..."

Since then I passed every night with him, always in his caravan, listening to his violin, which, now I know it, was playing only for me, making love and holding each other like lost kittens, in a corner of the world.

I know he is not mine. Yura is wild and free, nobody can possess him, if you are lucky you can feel him, and he will decide when, how and for how long.

I don't want anything more than that, his scent, his skin, his words (that I still cannot remember) whispered while we make love.
Every second of him is the lymph keeping me alive, I am like a plant needing its dark sun to survive.

=====================================================================
NOTE OF THE AUTHOR: you can see a portrait of Yura here
PS: thanks for this dream

And then she came

Sometimes you don't see it coming. Seriously.
I always thought I had defined my taste and feelings but probably I am never content.
I was planning to stop being a dreamer, a helpless romantic lost soul but then she came.

I mostly don't trust women. They have the gift of making you lose control, because they know where the center of your control resides.

"You'll have to work together, so don't sweat it Boris, she is a professional."

I sulked without showing it, trying to cope with the bad feeling possessing me at her sight, but when James opened the door and she walked in, I felt uncomfortable, in a way I didn't like.

"Romi" she said shaking my hand "My name is Romi Borgois". Her smile had something familiar, or maybe it just felt like that, I said to myself, concentrating my eyes on the project sheet that was spread on the table.

Romi explained her point of view on the works we had to start for the renovation of the warehouse, she talked calm and concentrated. I followed the movements of her lips and James had to answer her questions to me more than once.

James and I are friends since ages, and business partners since almost as long.
"Now I got why you didn't want to work with her..." he said once the meeting had finished "you were scared you'd like her?"
Was I? The question kept turning in my head like a vortex.
"Don't be such a jerk James...I am not happy to work with her. Competent women scare me in a way" and after saying that I smirked at my friend who was already shaking his head in disbelieve.

"You are really peculiar Le Boursier! I have never known anybody as weird as you are..."
James was trying to be serious but you could see that he was amused and curious about how my relationship with Romi would evolve.
"Sure" I replied "I just hope my first attempt to being normal is not going to finish in a black eye..."
"Or blue balls..." James replied sardonic.
I rolled my eyes at him.

"What about going to drink something? I need some alcohol to get sober" I said laughing and James laughed along.

We had a drink at Carl's and we enjoyed talking and remembering the past, like we normally do every time we meet outside of work.
The evening was promising fun and relaxed until a voice from behind my back made me stiffen
"Can I join?"
James almost spit his beer on me, probably my face had to be ridiculous, even Carl was laughing at me.
"S...sure" I said gesturing the seat beside me with my free hand "what are you drinking?"
"a beer will do for me too..."
Romi smiled, no sign of mocking amusement in her expression.
She had caught the guys laughing at me still she was not going to use that against me, for the moment.

She joined the conversation and I came to know that she was the oldest of three kids and that her dad had left home when she was a child. She had been married once, but after a few years she had understood that she was not "made for digging roots in a place where there was no food for her mind".

I understood her. Deeply. For the first time in years I felt connected.
She was not a danger for me because we were talking the same language.

James received a phone call "Bo I need to leave, Michael needs my help to sort out some shit at the site..."
"I can come along!" I said. James looked at Romi and then at me with a severe expression
"I can't allow you to leave a lady alone..."
I put my hands up to show him I was going to surrender and he nodded.
"I see you guys tomorrow. Enjoy your time..."

"It's a problem for you that he is gone?" Romi's voice had a sad shadow in it like she expected to know the answer.
"Not at all, do you?" I replied trying to sound sweeter than I was used to.
We drank some more beer and the conversation went smoother.

"Woo...it's three o'clock. I think I'll call for a taxi"
"I can drive you home..." I said "If you want to, that is..."
She looked aside troubled at my request but then she smiled.
"Thanks" she replied.

We didn't talk all the way long. Jazz music was flowing and filling the car.
the way she indicated was leading outside the city. The landscape changed into trees and grass fields.
"Here we are" she said indicating a small brown house at the side of the road.

I stopped the car and turned towards her.
"I am not going to ask you in Boris. Not tonight."
I didn't reply, since I didn't know what she was trying to say.
"I would like to kiss you, if it's fine for you..."
I leaned towards her and we kissed. It was a kiss with no pretense or hidden meanings.
It was this kind of kiss that makes you feel happy just because they happened and you surely want more, but you don't need to force that. It will come from itself.

I had always been this guy who didn't really mind who was landing in his bed, but then she came and she made the whole thing about life seem so easy and beautiful.
When she went inside, without even turning to check on me, I put my hands behind my head and inhaled the scent of her that was still filling the car, jasmine and cinnamon I thought.
The way back home I draw very slowly looking at the fields illuminated by the full moon and the night seemed beautiful again, and life with it.

slow fast slow

Do you remember me? It's been such a long time ago.

I never thought you could be interested in someone like me, so usual, so somber.

I looked at you my eyes caressing the line of your jaw, quick and voluptuous sign of desire.

Right on that moment you looked up and the line of a smile signed your face.

I don't blush.

Ever.

I only felt I needed to leave.

The night after I came back.

The same pub.

You weren't there and the feeling of disappointment left immediately the place to joy.

I was happy I didn't need to see you.

You were some new reason to lose my concentration, to lose focus on what life was so keen to give me for free.

"Hi."

the sound of your voice so cold, toneless.

"Hi." I replied without looking at you.

Your turned around me and sat beside me.

"You know" you said, your voice making each word sound sweet "I think you like me"

I laughed, a bitter laugh.

"You surely are one son of a bitch"

I hissed trough my teeth.

you smiled again.

"I was thinking...what about going to the sea? Just the two of us. Then you can go on insulting me...I'm intrigued."

I laughed. The bitter taste had already left my words and 'maybe' I think 'it's not even such a bad idea' and all the thoughts of focus and concentration and stay-out-of-trouble stuff shift in the background.
It has been such a long time ago.
I can still see the colour of your eyes. I thought you were unreadable since the first time I saw you. I thought it was a very bad idea and that I would have been the one to leave this story in pieces.
And here I am, after five years still thinking about you.
What a man am I? Lost in a dream that never comes back, lost in the past, so buried in memories that I don't even see life rolling away under my feet.
I will spend the rest of the day reading.
A science book, something about micro-expressions.
I hope that will keep my mind away for you for a while.
I turn the radio on.
"in the moonligh"...
Oh, damn! I think I'll dream some more maybe...

======================================================

missing pages

I hope to be in your thoughts, when you will go to bed tonight

And from those thoughts I am going to jump into your dreams,

Like when I was a child with my rubber boots in a plash.

Sharp drops of soul shattering me and you will end up melt us together in a colourful canvas.

You can call it love, hate or dependence, but the feeling will not change.

It’s a thin veil of pleasure bonding us together. It’s a thick rope cutting our wrists and suffocating our heart.

I need to love you.

You don’t mind to be loved, even if you hide behind a mouth full of stars and flowers.

Let’s change it in a play, a masquerade a tender minuet.

I’ll play the strings of your heart, lightly at first; I’ll be putting pressure when you are warm.

Don’t restrain me.

Let me play all the music I have.

Let’s kiss, let’s make love, let’s read an old book and rewrite the missing pages.

I have been looking for you so long.

I can’t give up a dream made of snails and cotton candy.

I have a ribbon in my brain and it’s waiting for you to pull it open.

Inside the box a million crimson butterflies: they are going to eat your heart, but don’t worry…

You’ll have mine.

Tomorrow

He was walking down the empty boulevard. The street lights were zooming in a disturbing way. He stopped in front of the window of a closed shop. The light was still on in the background room, but it suddenly went off and the only thing Ben could see was his blurry image reflected in the dirty glass.
He faked a smile. That was such a long time that he didn't feel like smiling. Since Rubs had left his world he had become like a picture in black and white.
'What do I care...' he said to himself getting back to his somber expression.
Ben walked slowly to the club house. The pub never closed. Before entering the door he gave a look to his pocket watch, it was almost three o'clock. 'Maybe I should just go home...' he thought shaking his head 'a drink won't kill me' he coincluded and he stepped in.
The room was populated by a few individuals. A couple of them had let they heads fall on the table with one hand still holding the empty glass.
Ben sat at the counter 'a dark pint...' he said looking around.
'fine...'
The answer came like a burning dagger in his ears.
He turned and there he was, Rubs, he didn't change for a thing in all the years he had been away.
Ben couldn't help but stare at him.
'I am back...don't you have anything to say?'
Ben couldn't decide if he felt like killing him or what else.
Rubs came out from behind the counter and he sat next to him.
His grey eyes pinned into Ben's chocolate brown ones.
With a light sweet smile on his lips he caressed Ben face.
It was like he had been waiting for that touch forever.
Tears began burning into his eyes and he tried to send them back.
Rubs pulled him towards himself and Ben didn't oppose resistance.
'Let's go home...' he said enjoying the warmth of Rubs' hands 'We'll talk about all tomorrow.'
Where feeling fill the void there is not so much need for words and however you look at it there is always enough space for a tomorrow.

Awakening: the journey.

The sun was setting slowly like it would be waiting for something. I stopped walking and I looked at the horizon. Maybe I had always known that, you don't find the meaning in the destination but during your journey, day by day.
I sat under a tree enjoying the sounds of the evening.
A night full of stars came soon and after it a beautiful dawn.
I washed myself in the cold water of a river, singing my ancestors songs and I resumed my trip.

I am still walking. The path in front of me is endless and I can't see the point where I have left anymore,but my heart is full of courage and proud. Nothing but raindrops and sunbeams to keep me company. I walk. I still walk towards the end of my way, with a smile on my face, and light in my heart.

stay away, Boris is back.

The sensation of being so free and unconditioned...it was such a long time.
I have been disgusted by life and myself and I have looked for things I didn't need in the wrong places again.Again.
Now I found a place where nobody can reach me.
I would like to be able to hide there forever, but sometimes life calls me.

I love life as much as I am sure there can't be life free of pain.

I prefer living alone, without your selfish help.

Now I just need all the images of a recent past to disappear in order to be happy.

A log time ago, when life was easy I had promised myself to be faithful to my principles. I have stepped on them so many time in the meantime.

That's why I am here today, to get once again on that path I had chosen.

If anything, if anyone ever comes in my way I will spit fire and use claws of steel to defend my freedom.

Welcome back, Boris.

someone who can pretend life is easy

You don't have to dig into the depth of the ocean to know I can't resist you.
I can't jump into this again.
I feel like I am deciding to throw myself down a skyscraper, free fall and when you reach the bottom you've nowhere left to go.

I love you and I hate you so much for what you do to me.
I feel bad for giving you details of my life that make me feel so vulnerable.

You know all of me and I feel like I have no power left to defend myself from this hurricane of emotions.

You want sex.
I want sex.

I want love.
You want sex.

The rhythm changes and it's not melody but noise.

I want warmth.
I feel cold now.

I was again flying too high for my little wings. Someone told me, a long time ago, that I can't sit here and wait for someone to save me.
It's true, I am the prince charming. I am the one who should be saving the princess in need.
But I am tired to fight.

I want to sit here, and forget, forget how much I suffer and forget how good you make me feel.
I want to sit here and remember your hands, your lips, your body, his warmth...I want to pretend this was in the past, a long time ago.
I want to pretend It was a dream and it never happened.
I want to pretend you are just a creation of my mind, I want to keep on making love to you in my dreams so that I don't need to feel guilty for that.

I don't ever want to lose you, but maybe you don't need me. You need a warm body to fill your bed.

You need someone who can pretend life is easy.


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