It is in the light of my mind that I see greedy dreams of intense reality, the desire to feel the same in my diversity.
In my feeling I find ancient emotions, of nights spent waiting for children or companions left in wars or chasing dreams and images, false totems of our not knowing media.
I will not go to war, but she will reach me even more fiercely, in her will to kill me over and over again in soul and body, wounding me where love should be born.
I loved but hated
I am the ideal refuge for your being a child and a child
I woman object, desire, everyday life
I woman prey
I mother woman
I wife woman
I woman daughter
I abused woman
I lonely woman
I woman and …
still a woman after
your meal on my naked flesh
the indifference
engulfing emotions
in your being a MAN as an animal

Nightmare, fog that envelops the brain, thoughts go to the near future
shaking hands,
rummage in and out of me,
like a rag doll,
useless resistance,
I feel myself snatch the last fragile defense
voice screaming in my mind
the mouth remains covered with rough fingers
strong sour smells of a pack of hungry wolves
man disappears in the animal by finding
its only meaning in the weakness of ignorance
pain and more pain, rising from my thighs to my mind
deflowered a thousand times
I smell them smelling of alcohol and sweat, of dirt
the same dirt that will remain on me forever
my body, from which I move away to take refuge in that dark cave
the place of salvation from madness, where to lull my wounded feeling

YOU father man
YOU man from companion to fair
YOU man who betray your humanity
YOU man of fears, refugee sharing false victories

Not equal,
Different yes. because I give light to your lineage between pain and suffering
Different yes. even when my soul continues to feel how and how much yours
Different yes. but always the same in our common destiny of suffering
Different yes. because of me the spoils will not look after the war
Different yes. because it can be sacrificed in the honor lost by those who want every right
Different yes, for my continuous giving receiving spoils of a favor conquered with the body and the mind
Different yes, because to use me is only for your sick imagination to erect false totems of your being a man.

The wind gently caresses the skin while bringing smells that bring the mind back to where we were born. The nostrils open to receive them, the lips open like a flower to receive liquid life-giving drops.

Here is the shiver that runs through the body that arches the back, pushes the pelvis forward giving way to the desire for hospitality. A smile illuminates the moment as the wave thickens and prepares, bringing billows behind her, like a court obsequious bowing before the grandeur of the perfect lover.

He sings about himself, tells and tells himself, of stillness and silent waiting, like fierce screams and infinite power.

Of him fear and love, we experience sensation simultaneously.

In him we find peace if not fear. But he always welcomes us as a father, friend, lover.

Here it is now, it arrives almost slowing down the race in the moment that precedes the end of the race, as if to anticipate infinite moments of passion before the explosion.

She throws her head back, letting her hair float in her lover’s breath. He hears the roar that accompanies his becoming, and here, arriving at the foot of the thalamus, he calms his strength, letting the great mass be reduced to myriads of thin tongues which, dragging slowly, reach his feet and lap his legs, up, towards the white and perfect thighs, slowly creeping up to touch her open flower to welcome them. Then they shyly withdraw, brushing it slowly like wanting to leave a trace or request, desire.

The mouth opens slowly to let out a sigh and the eyes close to imagine as if the infinity were not enough to describe the moment.

He feels the court of the lover breaking at the foot of the thalamus as a chorus of envy and respect. Leaving behind the call to the next moment.

And he, as if to hear that call, retreating, he still swells and prepares new attack, powerful and very sweet, made of strong and delicate emotions.

As if the big and strong hand stopped to caress the head of a little girl. Here he comes back and looks again for that intimate and totalizing contact that seems to leave no room for other thought.

And she still welcomes him feeling the deepest essence, listening to her scream and her whisper, letting that fresh wind pass over her limbs preparing her for the lover’s caress.

Again and again, but tired, he frees his forced soul into his woman, letting her hover inside and outside her soul. Time is relative to the moment and seems to stop at the perfect moment.

She also moans like him letting her sighs feed the air and give strength to the wind itself.

Here the moment has arrived, slowly as a wave that breaks into his mind and submerges everything, drowns his being in one with his lover.

The body abandons itself to the last caress as he slowly slips away again, leaving his taste on the intact, respected, fulfilled skin …

She rises slowly from the rock, her gaze goes where he has withdrawn into his infinite motion, he the perfect lover, the father of every child, an unconscious god among mortals. He who inspires us with his strength and fascinates us. He who welcomes us gently into his waters.

And she slowly dips her hands and greets him with a last caress.

If for once we leave behind our fears, those lucid nightmares that lead us to see things in a distorted way, so real that we feel out of place every time we encounter a different reality.
If for once we could see beyond the dense fog that surrounds us, made of false communication, of counterfeit realities.
If for once we find ourselves alone without the fear of being with ourselves.

If for once we felt real …
What could happen to us? !!!
Sometimes silence envelops you generously, covering your fears or revealing them in their squalor. Your silence, your silence full of phrases, words of emotions.
Here begins a new world, made up of sadness and smiles, made of fluid and dense thoughts that surround your mind wrapping it in a warmth that no one can ever understand or perceive … and if so?
If someone approached silently and took you by the hand?
What do you want now?

A. Pieroni

Vivid memory or dream of moments when reality cracks by breaking the thin barrier between power and will ….
Even today the memory of a face that belonged or only desired above me, long thick hair that in the slow and sinuous movement caress my chest to be possessed with sweet decision.
And again the light and deep breath that I feel brush against my face, a moment more and a small whispered cry slips from his lips, half-closing his eyes and in the half-light I enjoy perhaps only imagined details.
Suddenly the desire to go beyond that tiny limit imposed by morality or even just by the dreams of a child I still carry with me.
Reflected in a mirror such as your eyes turned upside down in the climax when your ego is no longer conscious and your sensations are extracted, eradicated from your innermost depth, when the barriers break down and everything becomes clear and understandable.

What is caught is what exists only at that time.


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