Faces #021

Beautiful catastrophe #042

volonte fotografo milano

Image info:
“Beautiful catastrophe #042”
Italy, May 2017
© Massimo S. Volonté

City Sickness – 387

volonte fotografo milano

“City Sickness No. 387”
Milano, Italy, Jan. 2017
© Massimo S. Volonté

No one knows what it’s like

volonte fotografo milanoNo one knows what it’s like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
No one knows what it’s like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies
But my dreams
They aren’t as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That’s never free
No one knows what it’s like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you
No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through
But my dreams
They aren’t as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That’s never free
When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool
And if I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
And if I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat
No one knows what it’s like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
_ The Who (Behind blue eyes) _

Image info:
“No one knows what it’s like”
Italy, May 2016
© Massimo S. Volonté

Dream no. 115

volonte fotografo milanoThe only way, love, the unique way.
My fingers run along the spine of your back
Your mouth on what remains of me
My tears in your wound.
We looked and we held each other, embraced before the departures.
Without even noticing what was going on around.
Illusions.
Time has overwhelmed us and space has compressed us.
Poets, visionaries, musicians. Baudelaire, Bacon, Davis.
Parallel Universes, limited relativity, unthinkable distances.
Illusions.
The rain in the sea, the wind in the chills, the heat in the skin.
We loved, we dreamed.
Without even noticing what was going on around.
Illusions.
Life has surprised us.
For good and for evil.
And what about death? What will she do to us?
The only way, love, the unique way.

Unico senso, amore, senso unico.
Le mie dita scorrono lungo la spina dorsale della tua schiena
la tua bocca su quel che rimane di me
le mie lacrime nella tua ferita.
Ci siamo guardati e ci siamo tenuti stretti, abbracciati, prima delle partenze, senza accorgerci dell’intorno.
Illusioni.
Il tempo ci ha travolto e lo spazio ci ha compresso.
Poeti, visionari, musici. Baudelaire, Bacon, Davis.
Universi paralleli, la relatività ristretta, distanze impensabili.
Illusioni.
La pioggia nel mare, il vento nei brividi, il caldo nella pelle.
Abbiamo amato, abbiamo sognato, senza accorgerci dell’intorno.
Illusioni.
La vita c’ha sorpreso,
Nel bene e nel male.
E la morte? Cosa ne farà di noi?
Unico senso, amore, senso unico.
_ Hugh S. Graves _

Image info:
“Dream no. 115”
Somewhere, 2017
© Massimo S. Volonté

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