Masks

I can feel how my being is deformed
and the colors are drain from my life
impeding me to feel the scent of a sunrise
covered with the cheapest sadness.

The eyes that look to the forbidden
focus on nothing
and the drops of anxiety
spill over my path
a sea of questions that overcome
the certainty;

the red taste like bronze
iron and nothing
ashes on the unexpected
eery thought;

inviolable are the hours
and the minutes undesirables.

I walk
as if nothing get attached to me;

I carry only
the nothing and disillusion
of a world that I should keep in secret
betraying the vileness
with agonizing thruths;

I think everything exist
on the possibility
but the thruth of it
remains but does not concern
to anyone;

the words
that the world is listening
are images of falseness
frustrated wishes
that tripped to the bottom
of their solitude;

while the world
debates on lies
the reality remains
savage and indomitable
under so many masks...