Federico Lotito


Sleep on me
with all the weight of your whys
and your still hours
and your trembling hands

sleep on me
with the warmth of your passion
with the moment of touchable, real fieriness,
youíll be firm, determinated
to break the time
that cannot be silent anymore.

Sleep on me
weight on me with your tired tell
and the fatigue hidden in a false rest,
as warm blanket,
torment of an endless desire,
Iíll keep you on me
mindless to sink.

weight on me with the excessive load of you
crush me!
donít be afraid you know well itís nothing for me.

this weight is all I want.


It is mushy this lemon
embedded in my chest.
its juice
scented by promiscuous senses
goes up, doesnít go down.

it is still mushy
in my daily dimension
and upside down the juice goes.

it seemed to me necessary air
for lungs forced in a apnea
by refusals and farewells,
it is mushy
and I know that it wonít be born again.

Iíll keep jealously its seeds
in my fine handkerchief
with memories that savour of far away.


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