Cigarettes that burn

my thoughts and make them blur

in transparent, fading rings,

swept by a wind that brings

echoes of roaring fights

and long, sleepless nights.

My soul whirls

and twirls,


in swift


rolls on deep grooves

of uneasiness

and bitterness.

But my heart doesn’t surrender

to the tricks of this prenteder

that is life

and strives

to reach a place

that isn’t a real space

but an extension

of our being where we learn that’s useless

to keep on agonizing in pointless

sufferance when a dove

flies on our souls: it’s called love.