Waking up is becoming painful, as if every ray of light that pierces
through the curtain hits me with a powerful but invisible blow. Opening my eyes
on this world is becoming painful, as if I can no more stand its curving
horizon. Probably because I've no horizon to look at.
But the blanket falls away curling on the floor and I have to wake,
there's no medicine for me here. The warmth of the bed fades away with the last
shades of the night, taking away my diamonds, my only drug to drag through the
night. The nightmare ceases to hunt me and still I can't feel better. I wonder
why…foolishly, blindly. The emptiness is filling everything like a toxic fog.
I know I have to react, but God, it's a such a painful thing to live
now. The city wakes up, but I know there's a city that's going to sleep now…
the city I've been an active member and that now seems so cold and dark, viscid
and obscure. Am I starting to think like my father?!!
I read once, no…Christian read…but Christian was me…the Christian I once
were, read on a book, a yellowish sheet of paper precious for its curled edges
and nasty dust: "Better it is to have loved and lost than never to have
loved." I thought it was such a stupid phrase, put there to appeal the
young inexperienced reader. Now I only find it painful. The mist runs away from
the lane like a hunted spirit. Are you there, mon amour? I hope not, and still
I want you to be there, so that I can tell myself I've seen you. What for? I
can't see you, I can't touch you, I can't dream in your sky. Any more. Painful.
God I'm a writer, and all that comes to my mind is : painful. It's becoming a
synonym of Christian…
I've to react, I know I should, and a part of myself wants to react, to
pick up a brand new sheet of white paper and write. The paper is there and the
black ink is there too.
Paper and ink.
White and black.
Night and day.
You and me…
I had my night, with a diamond sparkling only for me. Your sun hasn't
been able to protect you from the world, precious one. How dares he wake and
look at the true light now? I'm wondering it myself.
Can you listen to my heart now? I hope you can, love. I hope and for
every hope a tear tears me apart.
I'll love you until my dying day…I'm dead now and I keep loving you.
Isn't love such a stupid drink ? Isn't it better to drown in a crystal
glass of absinthe then? The effects are the same. You're taken where you
shouldn't be and then thrown down where you truly belong and the fall hurts so
much you don't want to stand up and face what may come again.
World is such a stupid empty cold place now, where are you now? God you
did this to me, only tell me why! Or give me a hope. I'm hopeless.
The street is filling with chattering people. My hurting eyes
distinguish only loving beings walking beneath my narrow opening. The Tower is
there, she'll be there forever, hiding the lovers of this city made for hearts
and not for broken souls.
The sun shines merciless in the sky. I've found it beautiful once, now
it's only…a light…like the thousands that every night are lightened there…where
my heart lived and died with the short life of a butterfly, disappearing in the
shadows as softly as it had stepped into the light, leaving a diaphanous trace
of grace. She was that butterfly, my precious butterfly, my little lively
dancer.
The show's gone on tonight, it will go on, but the sky lost its moon and
I lost my soul in the dark alleys of this merciless lovely city.
Now that I can't have you here, that I can't hopeful wait for our
moments of unbearable joy, life is pale and I'm a ghost looking for my grave,
where are you, sacred cats of Anubis? Why aren't you taking me where my soul
should be, where the music no more play and all is dust. Wind! I want you to
come and take me away!
The weight of my own loneliness brings me to my knees.
My gift is my song…I would give my life and my art to have the chance to
hug you for another second…and this one's for you…my Muse, my everything. I'm
sounding like a foolish now…I'm in love, in love with Death now…And you can
tell everybody, that this is your song…who cares if there's another broken
heart walking these streets? Words flow so smoothly now that I know my pain and
my limit. If only I could write with my blood, it would teach this world a
lesson. Love rhymes with loss. It would be the best epitaph in the cemetery…To
Christian, a poet who touched the heart of Life and brought these words into
this world: Love rhymes with Loss. He'll be forgotten but these words will hunt
the lovers until the end of times.
I'm sounding squalid now…
Come what may
Come what may
I will love you until my
dying day…
There will be no joy in my life now, only the dreadful memory of a joy
that was and can't be. Come what may, I'll let it pass and leave a mark on my
skin, you would find me quite passive but it is your loss that makes me weak.
Sing out this song
I'll be there by your side
Where's my voice? I can't sing, mon amour! Where's my voice?! I want to
sing, mon amour!
I'm shouting now! The touch of a my angel gave me strength.
Stay there, please don't leave now. In the morning light you're such a
beautiful mirage. Your mouth's moving…Sing out this song and I'll be
there…Write Christian!
