Kira A

«all the darkness out, all the colors in»

11 notes &

shreds

can you say how you feel?
to shake the head imperceptibly.
please, do not step back.
the zero in the middle of cards.
her hands are trembling, typical.
i can feel this buzz of colors, like
a crowd in an impressionist painting,
you know what i mean?

same old story.
don’t move.
who’s there?
 it’s been a while.
dots of pure color and no identity.
is there anything wrong with what i said?
i turn off the light and dark makes this room smaller.
it’s always a matter of faith.
who are you?
someone in the shadows nods, then sighs and
smiles, full of benevolence.
even smaller.
i need comfort.
you understand when you don’t have to and
you don’t understand anything anyway.
hold the half-moon in the centre of your palm.
even more suffocating.
you have all these things to give me and
you keep them all behind you.
same old words.
you never stretch your hands to give them to me.
i say: shreds. what do you think of?
forgive me.
i have never learnt.
i think of the mind.
they go rotten, useless.
i’m sorry.
turn the palm into a treasure chest.
but light makes a sound, right?
you wait so long they become useless.
breathe, you’ll be alright.
to swing, harmonizing the blink of an eye.
i have never learnt, i do my best.
the mind.
you have never listened.
feeling pain, like letting air in.
it doesn’t matter.
i didn’t have to know, see, do.
between myself and i.
to breathe out.
in the absence of friction.

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10 notes &

vertigo

i cannot, i think
i feel
(cold)
i’m thinking of your hair
the first thing i see
the dyed lock
i feel
(i die)
i’m not dying and i envy you
i’m hurting over my eye
i’m standing still
i’m finding it hard to break away from this
and sleep now
i, you are no longer here
to tell me i always write i this, i that
you are not here to tell me you’re putting my pieces
back in their place
to smile
i and the pain
tears and this new way of
crying i’m getting used to
when i try to push everything outside
i can feel myself vibrating
i and my large, heavy heart
this little piece of red flesh
fat
i and my frozen feet
the fact i can’t tell you i’m cold
the fact i can’t give myself warmth
the swollen eye
to fall
to deteriorate
i and this toothache
i and not being able to line a couple of words
i and i miss you
i realize i don’t realize
i confuse
you are not here
where have you gone
my mind struggles
i and i don’t know where i am
which side of the frontline
fragmented psyche
near far
in this world
not to hear your breath
to feel you next to me
no, at times
i don’t know
it’s cold
time masked itself
hitting my forehead
against the winter
vertigo
indecisiviness
thirty hours awake
eyes colored marbles
daintiness
fragility
rings slipping out
i, falling

(Source: mechanicalkira)

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29 notes &

What it’s like to be haunted

Memories linger all along the ceiling
Filling the gap between your worries and your
Hopes, so that when you close your eyes and drift to
Sleep, they become the main substance
Of your dreams.
#
Now it’s morning,
You are not quite sure if you want to exist today.
#
Searching your pockets
All you find is pieces of sadness
Scraps of melancholy
A poem written on a bill.
This summer is pressing against your chest,
Not wanting to leave
This emptiness won’t let you stay.

(Source: mechanicalkira)

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10 notes &

keeping my chin up.

I started to translate Lilium | Silence.
Lilium | Silence is my book, a patchwork of poetry, some prose and shreds of paragraphs that keep everything together. 
Sometimes I posted some excerpts here, but it was just bits, the book is over 14k italian words.
Not everyone knows that the poetry I post here is mostly a translation of poetry I originally wrote in Italian. 
And well, I need some encouragement here, because it’s a huge work and once it’s done, I’ll be looking for a publisher. :o
I’m going through a lot lately, so…
(trying to keep my chin up)
Thanks and you, reading this, I’m sending hugs to your way.

(Source: mechanicalkira)

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26 notes &

electricity

curled up on her side
wide eyes
behind her eyelids
a knot of electricity
crossed by unceasing shocks, she
grabs her shrunken thoughts by their corners
arranges them in front of herself
and stretches them out one by one with her hands
like they were ordinary clothes needing to be ironed
refusing to be governable
not docile clothes
(stretching them out so many times)
a kind of torment.

so she falls asleep,
yet doesn’t rest
the electricity remains
moves around her dreams
she doesn’t move and gets devoured
(gnawed alive by anxiety)
her soul without bone
lacking flesh
is alone.

#

what is that is wrong
all of this tension, the fear
and the spiders.
the injust still endures, after months.
each wound seen from a distance
traces a furrow on my skin.
the fear, the sadness
and the heart, broken anyway.
the nightmares, the bad omens
delaying the encounter with the battles of sleep
(and it still rains).
a rubber band takes you back
inside the wound
always the same as itself,
never changed.
the right thing, the right question,
the right answer,
the right escape.
what is the right way
to rescue yourself.

#

water to wash away, it purifies everything.
wind to blow on your wound, like a mother would do.
ice and crystal are alike, you might confuse yourself.
now i understand much more:
someone mistook one for the other.
(besides me)
because melting is the best defense,
the best security.
(you didn’t have to become so rigid)
no, more painful is breaking
remember the sails in a storm,
the blade of grass in a gale.
a little pain to wind the spring.
(now it’s working)
many little pink petals thrown to the wind
they wish to greet the wound.
(carelessly thrown, then back to your own business)
you deliberately complicate yourself
certainly confusing is another defense.
the wind dissimulates.
(and it still rains)
hardly saturday is a good day.

(Source: mechanicalkira)

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19 notes &

Impromptu

The little girl was playing
With dolls taller than her
While outside on the street
Raining
Cars were slowly parading
Toward the church

The dolls’ thoughts
Got caught in her hair
(And there they stayed)

You are unable to look in the mirror
This is why you make me feel
Estranged from myself

(Little boys with double breaster coats
And neat-looking hair
Proceeded to the Mass
Little girls stayed in the gardens
Their hands attached to the ropes)

She was playing
With the thoughts of her dolls
She was guided
By invisible hands
And said again
"Love is a black room with a padlock"

Rubbing her eyes
Shortly before the little boy threw
A paper airplane
Toward the rails
In the direction of the train

(Source: mechanicalkira)

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17 notes &

Liliane (writes)

You are the road growing into home
The prison without gratings
You are not choice
You are not constraint
You are in the sacrificed hair
In my wrist covered with black
You are the child lingering in sleep
You are my belongings arranged on the ground
You are a summer afternoon in London
You are the hand always holding mine

You are the road, my home
The prison without gratings.

The Infant who never arrived
At the party for his birthday.

Kira A, Lilium | Silence

(Source: mechanicalkira)

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27 notes &

060108

it’s raining and i stand
watching the walls melt down
dripping
like make-up from tears
the throat is a canyon
burnt by the wind
the window is closed
it has iron bars
why does there have to be
just one place
just one?
all that is given
should never
ever
be taken back
artificial losses
display cabinets
it’s too late, don’t you see?
abre los ojos
but you have opened them
you are just taking revenge
you just want to
reclaim something
a guarantee
that it’s worthwhile
you must have told yourself
i hope you are happy with the leftovers
corrosion
crying
for me, not for you
never for you
who take no notice
of the lines i trace
with chalk
and chase me
and take me for granted
and are blind
and want to lock me in
and while you advance
you lose
inviting me to escape
i watch the walls
getting closer
i watch her
erasing them
i watch me
inside the walls
disappearing

(Source: mechanicalkira)

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