No name

The pain originates from
The throat and the chin
Moves down to the chest now and spreads
The heart’s under siege
Contractions of a tissue
Beyond control
The body suffers from what
The mind was denied

The anger rises
Defenses engage
Enthusiasm is panic
Going to give it up before the end

Look through pictures sliding on the glass
Focus on the light ring and lose the grip
The bright cone’s spinning counterclockwise again
No name you know to define yourself

The man in the mirror combs his
His long golden curls
Was told that he looked like an angel
When he was a child
He now feels like punching his chest and
And crash into it
To eradicate that grown hair
That wraps up his heart

The room’s still empty
The heart loses beats
Nothing translates to fire
Still I’m not going to forget nor forgive


When emotions become physical, when pain becomes ache, we feel not only we lose control of our body, we feel we lose our own identity. Still, paradoxically, there is more hope for those who reach the bottom and look up to the spinning light above.


Fabio Scagliola,