Did you ever think again about something you used to give a lot of time to, something you did frequently with passion (no i'm not speaking about masturbation), but some ability you trained hard along the years, (ok that sounds even more like masturbation, but no, god damn it!), something that had meaning for you, and you were understanding the code and rules to do it, something that was a voice for you, a way to express who you thought you were, but now is totally senseless to you and you lost the drive?! (though the ability is still here).
I found back my sentiment for poetry, how i had found how i wanted to make it, my own way, it was easy, and it made sense about why i needed to display it.
But now i see no point for that drama, that wave of emotion, that was supposed to engulf someone, or free myself.

The problem is that words are born from the mind and not the heart.

(An emotion must be acted in the present to take form and meaning, or it becomes a frustration, an emotion must not be thought but lived, when you write you think, but writing consciously and unconditionally doesn't nurture frustration).

You think you share a truth but you're only manipulating the receiver of those words to get you the very thing that you miss in the moment you write, and because poetry is supposed to be emotional this is a psychological manipulation.

At least that's how i feel it now! (let's be clear!)

Words are useful, written or spoken, but for me now they have to be used to reach to someone positively and unconditionally, and i know i'm only sharing a piece of my mind through it, it's not much, it's not important to the scheme of the universe, it's personal and sometimes a call to someone else (when a question is asked, either way), it doesn't require any forced participation and answers, it must give the choice to each one to connect or not without any dramatic manipulations.

I still can read poetry and fantasize about what i perceive of the mind of the author, that's still fine and stimulating, but i refuse to feel manipulated from afar, or from another time period (try to manipulate me in a moment of closeness instead), life must be lived right here right now, where you are and choose to be, and in there you can use words to connect with your present and fullfill your life as you want.

Isn't it maturity?! (youth will call it boredom, please go back to masturbation kid!)

The Art of idleness (Considerations on the origins of unhappiness and conflicts)

"Human beings are only good when they are happy, when they reach the inner harmony, therefore, when they love.
Thus, the misfortune that striked the world, the distress i felt was coming from an inability to love truly."

"Everything that we are unable to accept, to love, to savor with gratitude becomes poison.
On the contrary, everything that we learn to cherish, everything that instills energy represents a life source and a treasure."

Hermann HESSE (rough translation)

Sorry if i'm morbid tonight

Yesterday during my walk,
not too far from my appartment, on a side road,
 i saw a dead kitten,
probably ran over by a car,
i stopped for a moment,
no one was around, it was quite late in the evening,
he was all black but the tips of his paws,
white,
like he was wearing socks.
His eyes were shut tight,
like when someone is pulling out some physical effort,
and his face was frozen on a demonic grin,
a trickle of blood was seeping out of his mouth,
i could see his tainted fangs.
I had some thoughts there,
"Poor guy, he surely didn't deserve this, probably less than any human"
"Would have i been more affected if it was a human lying there?...
probably not.",
right there i understood why people find comfort in an animal, and love him so much
(i'm used to distance myself about that),
no animal deserves to die,
and definitely less than any human,
animals obey the laws of nature,
 they never do wrongs,
they never do useless, insensitive acts.
For a second i imagined i should take him by the fur of his back
and put him on a ground area,
in the dirt and grass,
or under a tree,
so that nature can absorb him,
and his decaying body helps other creatures and plants,
but i didn't do it,
(weak),
for fear of bacteria,
and perhaps that someone sees me holding this dead body
and freaks out.
I still have his picture in my mind,
well sorry if you think i'm morbid tonight,
that's a story from my days.