[original images here]
Me and girls.
Me and girls
are like music.
But not just any
kind of music.
If you're ignorant
or almost ignorant
about electronic music
I can explain you
a thing or two and
that is that me and girls
are like electronic music.
But not just any
kind of electronic music,
one that implements this
technique to its every single beat.
And for me it's always
more about the technique
than the beat.
This technique that DJ's
make use of,
like us poets do,
we make people fall in love
with whatever is
that we're saying.
Loop.
That's how they call it.
Sometimes I find that DJ's can be
more poetic than us,
how they say Loop
instead of "banging
hammering repetition
of a predictable
pattern so many times
you would believe it's
different".
I tell myself
"it's gonna be different"
and "it's gonna be different",
"it's gonna be different"
"it's
gonna
BE
different"
I say it once, twice,
three hundred times
equal amount of weekly
texting between
You
(there)
Me
(here)
it's gonna be different,
Raffaella, she made
you dinner, she took you
places, she promised she would
take you more places,
you felt like she really,
really meant these lines
she wrote, you wrote
both of you writing.
You felt like this
never before,
you thought you
did before but
now you really do,
before you didn't,
feel this different,
feel this naked,
completely vulnerable
vs venerable
and sure so sure
it was going to be
different
now
it is like my iPod music
I've got so used to.
they are like my iPod music.
2010 songs.
and 1 yet song with no loops
to be discovered.
Shuffle
differ(ent)
[original pic here]
Inebriated
but not like
wine floods
any type of
Rationality
in me
instead
I
Think
I
Think
so much
I feel so sober
it's absolutely
unjustifiable
these things
I feel and
honestly
don't care how
much of it
you feel too
just because
it is so
Real
Real
for me
my thoughts
I can't speak out
I don't
have to talk
we're commenting
on blinds that are
familiar to me
and my thoughts
travel so far and
in between the
cracks of light
that break,
in every corner of
your blinds.
Blinds. I shut
my eyes to see.
Whitney talks and
I pause to breathe,
to let go of your poem
for a while,
to let it walk by itself,
it almost says "Raffaella,
Raffaella...", but I can't.
Turn back and react
as a normal Raffaella would.
I gotta let it walk and
do whatever it wants,
fall, play, jump,
cry, smile, look at me,
be proud of me,
hold me.
Yeah. I will.
Let it go.
Wait for it.
the pragamatism of touch
[Pic by Eugene Buzuk]
I thought of you
now and I
touched myself.
Placed my hand
down there
and breathed in and out,
my other hand
pushing against
my skin even more
I pressed it in
and out.
the sounds so hollow,
my stomach,
emptied of food,
bathed in Mallox.
If only you really knew
how poetic I really am...
I thought of you and I
touched myself.
Back strategically
bent, great architect,
lips gently
bitten, sensual whore,
eyes that roll like
dice, the bet I made:
if I couldn't get a model one
like you.
So I did, touched both of
my hands: high-five to me.
If only you really knew
how poetic I really am...
I touch myself even when I
don't think of you.
your tongue
right past my
iPod playlist.
Speak right
through me,
speak right
through me.
You said you
can't believe
a word I say
If only you really knew
how poetic I really am...
I touch myself
in the subway while
the undying lines
shuffle
songs
that remind me
of how I am
touching myself
in the subway because
you barely touch me.
If only you really knew
how poetic you really are...
