talk of the storm
won't leave the scars
it used to
words fatuous
at first glance
are left to greet
each other
the shout in the desert
distant distorted
at the top of the chain
your threat
seems contrived
water rising
he makes a fool of himself
in our eyes and theirs
i don't mind
having a laugh at this
never to notice
the soaking cloth
on his shoulder
i wake up as the wind
makes him louder
losing sight
of these thorns
leaves me
wandering in circles
losing sight
of this blood
pulls me under water

INVIA LE CORREZIONI