extinguished

unresponsive, darting eyes are bullets

offshoot from the road distant from the path

hurtin' by the lack of limp; pigment on the target#

~nightmares the creature feels aproaching the call~

at long last the method to the madness

afinity interlinked

minus the ruptured muscles, broken bones

do souls dance above or beneath the oceans?

are they full of love or is it rapture they crave

does breathing erupte all delusion

are we on a timer exorbitant in weight

for heavy are the words kept at a carefully minimum

it is at odds gold and promises that anchor good, dignant men

to the chambers of corruption

awaiting another

a mirage best believed quietly

that time mends carefully beneath it all

in truth dirty oily fingers plague my water at a stir

blood drips where teeth, lips and tongue should dance and meet

my thirst shall not know remedy

nor be extinguished

bones are not cages:

they protect, they hold you tight and they break

swallowing keys and blades cannot fulfil any depth

they only ensure theres less of you to reach out for

answers that are not prayers

infusions that diffuse illusions that hurt the most

do you think the Devil knows?

beyond what particles and the fabric matter

step by word by choice working out viper from the trees

does he know any better by now?

the creases in my face hold emotion and age poorly spent

floating, bouncing off wants and tells now turned echoes

an unwilling participant in a joint race

I chance a recognition of hair, skin and chipped tooth adrift

have we taken a wrong turn or is it too soon to panic? to fallout or blackout?

I dont know what I want alas

I want to want something that will not bring me down.  

i learnt that i

feel (now) less betrayed by surprises 

i invite the possibility

the arrival of news are not, necessarily

a tidal wave destined to shakedown the coco tree

of all you hold dear though it tastes sour

opens your head open and makes you overall mood worse

the dullness, frail empty spaces

confusing boredom for safety of rooms filled with sand

kept inside a snail shell we hole ourselves in called home

if i pee in the ocean my tap waters goes green

at least thats what i dreamt of yester-year and

the realization of nonsencical direction

exacerbated my loneliness, engraving It to the chasm

making it worse, at night the road no longer has loveless monsters

nor chained regrets, noisy, desperate familiar spectres

like waking up to realize the distance bridged cannot be leaped backwards

 

and that shit hurts.

i try to practise what i found myself preaching

'do as i do not as i say' 

it sounds insincere when dialed back by a mirror and a record-player

 

Today I got complemented and although my instinct was to reject it

discard it swiftly and violently

a quick smirk triumphed. dopamine to my acetone. 

 

love is but one facet of emotion,

do you feel loved?

i hold myself open to the interpretation

that surprises will no longer make it any worse. 

a set-piece routine could just about placate

the anxiety of separating causality from casuality

timeframe, timestamp the first of -09

selective memory clashes with the provider of bending (rules ending in the ICU)

or worse still, 

married to an old friend exchanging a life spent in unbothered shared silence

to amount to a meaningful difference

to carve out an insignicant piece of heaven

until the day of interlocked fingers

be they mine on my grave or otherwise

taking part on a movement of ghosts too unserious to lose

conceding granted that will not bring me closer to developing good sense

i was taught good sense that i chose to ignore

what i want

what i crave

is to say 

i do.

gates

are fences

frontiers to separate what

out of notice, focus

on the dangers lurking over there

speculation inflating the shades

at ease, floating far beneath

paranoia dissipates, cracking

a knock betrays hope

just as the rapids carry momentum

at length natural, brutal, just

frozen by the winter, accidental

changed to the fog, not quite meant to be

a road or so the bodies below show

bloated reminders that love alone

cannot cast away the spectres

further steps are missing. 

____________________________________________________________________________

"Something you’re missing made you who you were 

Because I’ve kept my distance, it just made it worse 

But I’ve learned to live with the way that it hurts"

 

to console a tantrum, sporadic like polen spread by devils

swinging arms and head to swat freedom, anxiety and bees

might as well dust the frenzy 'till the pace arrests the powers of

hindsight by tiredness alone and that I mean

it. Enabling acts of atrition to feel something as well.

nothing quite as final and that's a fine enough start

without finer details bitter at the stem

or stinging like booze on wounds.

 

just as the breeze carries your hopes and dreams

levitating, do not fixate on fiction little bird

for should you lean on lended spaces you too shall compromise

body for attriction soon to cushion stone and a new found reality

farther from betrayal is as vast and certain as the shoreline after the flood

for it must be what shall be whenever it comes to be

and that too, will, surely, pass

uncompromissing

of note is where, perhaps

choice

intervenes

a gaze sustains silence, bizarre

swaying your head to the beat,

the violence that discords a stomp from a gentle tap is a discord

demonized by a struggle we had to have in order to exist. 

 

achievement (the worse is yet to come)

I trust

you will do right

for me (be yourself, be free)

grime in the scale

a blockage

envicerating the trem

towards not blance

and therefore

purpose.

I hope (because how can I trust) 

not in the

stepping stone of a mistake

turning failure into a river

that powers the will

feeding both Ego and Mind

poisoning 

accidental, unplanned

a fruit of labour, never of love

lovers have one another

animals can lust too

 

democracy forged by hot mocca

for the love of god open the fucking door

why pray drum the shaman distain

should be it tried 'on'

surprise just be the same

individual highlights that could

if we do meet in hell father

I will kill you myself

 

not, in the miscalculation

of a spider weaving a

web of deceit

a trail of lies

at length cruel and predatory

at odds with incoming trails

clashes and colapses

like a eaving connection bends

roof to overhang and blood debt

lingers uninvited to my very funeral. 

 ____________________________________________________________________________________

I see blues and slipped veiled masks

all it took was a second of my time 

adulthood is realizing some are destined not to make it

and to tear oneself heart apart should you have sympathy:

be a monster after you do. 

what is the meaning in admiring Nature

and breath in the fragility of a sunrise

what good is the sadness swimming inside

empty and small

warm to navigate, heavy just the same.  

stirring the pot cannot dissipate poison

lingering shadows cast a grim scene

evident by the lack of saviours

no appeal for the whereabouts

nor guidance towards open gates

if there is a call it be demons and unspoken wrongs

 

what macabre fatality that one must break

in order to rebuild and heal one must tear thyself apart

to steal the opportunity from further harm in uncontrolled measures

by those that want to take more than they wish to partake

grey matter is no more my legacy than chances felt short

a miscalculation necessary to infuse colour to the Grey.  

growth can be unconfortable, untapped

question, is a mirror necessary to identify oneself?

how can one take stock without losing track

fading from realization to

the Grey stream: even in despair and contentment

a dangerous proposition to have just enough. 

tara

dear diary,

my teeth have not grown back,

nor have I grown taller

I now, firmly, believe not to be

in fact

a vampire:

for all the godness sake

master above,

my faith in the balance has shrank

just as true as retribution does not equalize

nor neutralize lose

so do the years go by-a-bye

never to return past the horizon

just short of the retine above the lapel

we are cursed to wield for eyes

soon to discard due to old age and above all

timely decay and the conseguence of our own darn decisions

praise be caffeine solely because other

stronger drugs reverberate in a seguence

that overwhelms my weak body

and the bones shook me into a frenzy followed by a panic

I found the courage to explore the haunted house

only to realize it was cursed instead,

I now fear very little from my lot

for the burden has diminished returns

and the interest has dried up

the beast has taken flight

leaving scar and carnage in its path

now contained to memory, a poor excuse for legacy

feeling tired, inviting change

lately, 

when I hear my heart

there is a disconnect in

the words I speak

a dangerous concoction inviting effigy that cannot replace 

the potential of the air we breath.

I attempt and fail, miserably, to reimagine the incantations and fantasies of yesteryear

as if the darkness that separates adulthood from childhood has itself been a spell

that now fails to draw from my uncleansed soul, 

at once taunting,

rejecting me.

 ____________________________________________________________________________

radio silence

food, cold

discarded

of wants and needs

we throw away plenty

and forget about

stubborn bruises

that simply

just do not heal

looking fatigated

of being asked

questions that seek

to undermine and dictate

the pace at which

the hand should

handshake happiness

to no alarms

nor my surprise

your mildly tilted head

serves little purpose 

to placate the Dawn

to deny the call

to turn a new page

gentle gazes 

will not quake

my silence

should judgement Day

arrive today

know, understand

the gates will await 

shine true and hold open

for the price

that, 

I have already paid. 

will it

into existance

a narrative better suited for a thriving tale

reflection heavy intend, a clash of stranger and danger

where the uncertaintainy of whether their feelings will swallow them whole

a nail biter bittersweet: unloved=discarded and left behind without regret nor help.

a triller chills the bones, waterboarding for sport

a sexual craving unleashed, vivid and breathtaking

literally.

I am deeply unsatisfied

I crave nurture all the fucking time

I feel compelled to interlace finger to neck

locking desire to waste

to come undone from under the sheepskin

the wolf wears to perform, daily, and bathe on the scent

of delightful pathetic display of plain nice gestures

like a doll in display stumble upon words and tangle with legislation

moral conduct and abdor villainy.

 in the dark the door remains locked

nevertheless the wall figures out the act

I swear it moves and shrinks, turns my stomach upside down

outwards and spills all matter of petty irrelevant secrets

 

I dont dance, I sway

a cunning negotiation with gravity and a pretense stab at self-control

a tangle between arm and leg sharing space

interchanging role whenever the fancy strikes low

ashore the fever lingers

the sea calls anew as the arriving comet trails ahead

the foretold eclipse, not quite a miracle but a spectacle nevertheless

demanding attention and serene pause, now at ease

a hybrid colapse of shoulders slanted

is it due to the burden of alongated days

or the birth of what's to come

have you spent the better of your justice days

learning to know someone pretty darn well?

I wish I could well leave myself alone

perhaps I am late to the party I was not invited to

but snuck in either way

not always the type to bite into ice-cream

but that last time it felt just right. 

they told me be patient, it gets better

on the verse

between a mother tongue and a recurse

of a bow meant to complement and finalize

at the command of a given pattern and key

erupting both crowds and actor

ablaze and nurturing for a given, precious, moment

a gas that can indulge, slowing tempo and blueish ways

settler of track and mood, ease of ache and oozer of pretense

I fear that fraternizing with stone and pretending it answers back

is not the golden era I hardly deserve but have attained nevertheless.

 

a fatal atraction is a thirst that can bury a body past the blow

the smoke inbetween and the multitude of questions that resonate here to there

humans dance in the web they call Life like they want to talk about it

half-awake navigating the streets, seekers of answers: sitting only to eat, fuck and sleep.

 

do we beat ourselves because we tire of this party we were destined to leave?

the apparition soothing my shoulders, whispering at the wind is a scarred brain

connecting the dots, cornering solutions

tripping on the veins underneath chasing higher highs

the volcano that birth my home island is not dead

merely asleep they said, head blown wide open

green all around, life abundant, no reason to leave

above ground the petty wickness of do thy dues

"You only drink the water 

When you think it's holy"

is this mortal shell a loan

finite bliss

might as well not retaliate and sit under the graceful sun

dancing to match my shadow's pace in

a mountain is where I feel less fragile and closer

to a familiar scent

not because I sought to conquer nor distance myself

in a parallel where a fall would leave no one left to tell

the demoness in my shoulder has not won this war of attrition

in a frenzy we are both dangling

in a dream

where everything is better.