jbkaria giovanni cb

Made of flesh and questions
rises from a box of matches
attempting a shot a day
reborn distracted
...

I fly to win
complacency by the unhealthy for your Sunday
galleys full of innocence in black and white
from the slits of my cell walking
...

And now let me flow along your back
let me in
touching your skin as if I were the wind
feel as tight as a drum skin
...

Have you seen the number of years that I carry in my pockets?
They are the branches of an trasparent oak
the sugar's beaches on the London smoke
the explanation for life that runs behind the death
...

Fear has a sterile form
grows without life
stealing minutes from your dreams
insistent steps to create forms that you should have done
...

Will be the same wind that grow inside the passion
where the fiery love have something to say at your hearth
I was born only when you shout my name
in your darkest hours
...