JB, 2010
After holidays and winter flashes
there’s sun warmth.
I stretch out legs and arms.
All around mist congeals and blocks my
world and landscapes, remaining pale there
I begin to feel older myself,
to realize my acts are now more slow
despite my flesh that throws my mind far
toward young girl’s thoughts and toward dreams
I compressed emotions, a life
which now overflows causing this upset
that disturbs both my brain and my flesh,
old yet learning me as maiden stuff
Where did go years I spent, time I lost
without kisses and cuddles or smiles,
filled with duties and jobs that I now
feel so dry, feel so cold,
feel as lack?
I’m ashamed of so many words I
group with pens on sheets I hide, unknown:
those are outbursts of people I am,
schizophrenic mind without good drive
Other people are into my deep,
men and women that sometimes like flares
can arrive to my eye to look out:
here’s thus laughs, sometime cuddles
I can
February, 14th 2020
The skin of the angels 