Poetry

Love always gives love its strongest face

 

To Valentina forever. 

 

No one could. 

A blood-red world. 

My head was spinning. Seeing a wall. 

Face painted white. 

Turning the wall. See the head. 

The wall is painted black. 

Yesterday and today is a ring. 

Your face is a ring, Sleep! 

Something melts into the decor. 

The walls move closer to one another. 

I no longer remember our memories. 

Wings spread without feathers or flaws. 

The world is dead. 

To die again. 

Somewhere else, in another decor.

 

Ivan de Monbrison
+ posts

Ivan de Monbrison is a person affected by strong psychic disorders that prevent him from having what others may call a "normal" life.  He has found writing to be an exit to this prison. Or maybe it is a window from which - like an inmate - he can see a small square of blue sky above his head. His writing often reflects the never-ending chaos within him, but contrary to this mental chaos, the paper and the pen give him the opportunity to materialize this in a concrete and visible form. Writing can feel like a slow death, but it's better than mere suicide in the end.