Craziest crazy, look at all the madness you carry within yourself.

You are everything I couldn’t be.
You are what I never knew how to be.
All that I have failed to become.
You are everything I dream that I am.

While everyday my nostrils are filled with the same familiar smell, you are spreading yours in other cities.
Hey, would I feel their smell if I kissed your nose or if I stole your breath while you are talking about them?

Imagine this, I cross the same bridge every day, the same river and I don’t see it anymore, nor hear it.
Could I hear the waves of the ocean, the Mediterranean Sea, some small or big rivers if I put your hat or wrap my head with that yellow scarf of yours?

Do you know that, every winter, I complain to minus five because I am cold and curse the plus thirty in summer because, imagine this, it’s hot?
As usual, the same bothers me, while your skin is fried by the rhapsodic plus forty, and you have finger cramps when it’s thirty below zero.

Can I feel how not feeling my fingers feels like if I take your brown leather gloves, or feel how does it feel when your feet are burning if I put on your shoes?

How is it possible that I didn’t know how to be so admirably grotesque like you?
Now I’d know the same things you do without asking a single question, but I talk in silence about how special it is to be a madman in the eyes of the short-sighted environment.

But I didn’t..

Do you want to put on my shoe? Here, I’ll give it to you.
Tell me, do I walk like schizophrenic? Is there any hope that I too will be so divinely crazy like you?

Tell me, can I go to the one side of the world at least? That one over there, left, here from the kitchen window, huh?
What is it, East?
(I don't even know the sides of the world.)
On which side grows moss? In which direction the river flows?
(It can’t be that I don’t know anything anymore. What has become of me?)