my first painting, in my gloomy evening

I will start drawing by an alphabet of water

I erase the stars and I put my rare tiers at their place... it's rare like the rarity of Wild Viola in snow white

My tiers raining pure, raining... like the rain, like the greats moaning 

Like my nostalgia to the winter's warmth

I erase the stars... the lights no longer dazzle me, and I make myself an extension to this night

Ambiguity is surrounding the silence... the poor hustle is in the silence... it's soaring... and soaring again...

The thick walls grabs the hustle, that the brilliant lord raised them, in order not To see the gloom... 

In order the gloom not to spoil his dinner...

Hey warmth !

My only saint ! my paradise lost...

I looked for you in all hearts, but I didn't find you, just a mosaic piece

or a painting surreal, unknown parameters and names

Hey faithful friend ! show me an address, a guides, a map, show me the innocence and the innocents 

Hug me to yours, and lower your wings to me,  who said the innocence is a right to children only ? 

I wish I was a child flying in an oil painting, around Virgin Mary...

I wish the Virgin helps me with  a real word, a mother's slap, that will restore the maturity to me...

And my childhood, and my friend

You, Oh warmth ! my heart became a corrosive coffin, contains...

Nothing; just the pieces

My wooden hands, my pale looks towards the sky,...

They are looking for a hidden thing between that swimming clouds...

It's you, the beauty  linked to you, it's the pink dictionary in the poets world ...

I feel weak, I feel yearning for you, even if I look sober in my steps,...

strict in my alphabets, lofty in my pride...

I often feel polar cold breaking my bones...

And is flaming myself by an eternal heartburn.

I'm waiting for you impatiently, pleas; don't disappoint me.

If the earth won't link us

I really hope the sky will.