segunda-feira, 26 de fevereiro de 2018

Snow flows, memories consumed
Sand dance, caress asphalt
Blossom tempest, inherent protest
Four complains, escalating into a depression
Temperature slips, rosy cheeks
Import liquor, pink silk rancy sheets
It's settled now, grey hallow tones kiss concrete
I held her tightly, suffocated, feint walls closed in, infiltrated

as snow flew I fell
once it melted, away anew
alas, all alterated, fear
It hurt when you walked away
what lingered, coughing spite
an over shoulder sinister hopeful glance
It truly broke my heart 
Now I crawl in hopes pity
Will glue the shattered pieces

sábado, 30 de dezembro de 2017

It is too late.

I saw it all in a whirlwind of emotions
As I drowned in a rush of sensations anew
The Past's held by breath tight as all hell
As such I woke up covered in sweat
The trust was broken, sweet nightmares
Roam the plains of decay and emptiness
I swore to never ask, or feel, the same as these
Mistakes, I call them, decisions to be learnt
No longer a safe fortress, in ruins
Guess a prisioner of war cannot beg
Inner turmoil deserves to be tackled, granted
But the statement of facts opens not the doors to Heaven
Or returns to square one the promises that crumbled

Her silence filled the gaps in my mind
I once wrote her songs, poems and finer words still
All in whispers and gentle note strokes
Spoken with intent, why couldn't I know
Then, oh too late to claim her innocence
Man is not a tool but I sure felt like one
I did use, retribution through abuse
I was never one to stand quiet
The heavens wont open for me
All I wanted was a little taste
To drown in green eyes
But she deserves to be free
From the wickedness of a madman.

sexta-feira, 27 de outubro de 2017

I hear you. Doesn't make me less disgusted.

I always found pain rather unsettling
But do not forget I found death amusing
And came to find beaty in animals decay
As they squeal for salvation that never came
I put up a miserable face and feint a plain play
Hoping they wouldn't find I was holding up
Self-satisfaction and a tiny bit of pity
That I couldn't be the only one
to have held the blade
start a fire and burn the whole World

Never seen a point in ransom
No need for a cheap stone, pile them high
And go heavy on the dirt
If I come across as bashful
You might just have run out of luck
Time is precious but limited, true
But then again
You either get infected by-a-bye
Or grow corrupted from inwards

 To be terminated.

sexta-feira, 20 de outubro de 2017

The call of the void soon came for me
Spent, like rotten fruit in that bowl
Potencialy harmless, granted
The irritating sensorious offense
Furthermore, and for shock effect
Shook, administrate the cure
Look as the changelings assume other colours
A farse, altogether, as per prophesy tames
Tained, to the core as only time can truly corrupt

Passify this silly notion
No compromiss, we shall never surrender
Not just yet, at least, rather, it is too late
To maintain a stance of delay as the surface
Cracked under pressure, and we chose to float
And mediate the season as we wave our good-byes
And, ah, in a hurry as you should, be.

There remains little to disappoint
Once one came to accommodate expectations
Through and throughout spectacles, tinted lents
Are as foggy as that chilly night in december
When the water as a mirror to our own world
Pity I came to be stuck here still
Grounded by earthy boundaries
As my ninfe, and the departed ahead of me
whisper It to me in senseless turns
"è immacolato e quindi silenzioso".
The horror, a thin veil of dread
Can mask too mystery
For a man is incomplete without

quarta-feira, 4 de outubro de 2017

Close to the ideal that came to be
Slide right through, crack widen and echo
Those voices that acomplish disinfection
An amputee needs no apt serum
Or a call for arms, those that he no longer has
Upwards then, the colour of the green monster
is my conception yellow under the Sun?

Beneath my doormat
Blocked by dirt and despair
A trace of a hole that needs digging
Unfinished issue to be serialized
By deeper abstract thought, an oversight
In front of me

The enchantment ran it's due course
the track lingers beyond the horizon
and I sure came pacing backwards
Inevitablely caged within the idea
Introduced to the phenomena of wonderlust
I originated from established demonstrative drama
Speech, a certain kind of truth bursting flat out
From my chest to the left, all that is left
Could be either rage or sin
In equal measures, excited to exist, ahha
I might care to await maturity
To equate infinity with artillery
But youth is chained to a binding search
For heartbreak, qualms of the soul and
Generaly speaking
Resolutions to come anew once old
Grey and at once grim
Owned to those carried within
That could not attend this day
In hopes that
Hope molds as wax
And mends my rocky boat
To a livier port

quinta-feira, 21 de setembro de 2017

Sound recording of my trajectory, ol' sport anew, now say hello.

Disonesty comes cordial to these
who wait and preach
Cardinal virtues that insist
In salvation from Eternal Dammnation
For a heck of a probable cause
Is ever within reach

Thirst for an uphill battle, old sport
Feint struggle to levitate doubt
Arousing and imminent, threatning
To crumble and fall, whichever comes first
Force these hands, iddle and anemic
Blank pages in the cold ol' nights
In consection, step followed by a drip
No longer a stretch to long for a breath
Release this tension from my chest
Patterns in motion, the move is latched
If fortune is to be believed
We too shall drink blood before the night gets high

And breathing is a chore
When the mundane floods the gates
Wrasp, gasp, grasp the concept little one
as you lean on the window
Yawn as you drink nectar at dawn
fruity, picky for style is such a bore
effervescent passions can linger
A toll; the lust, transition, anyway
do fairies have tails?
do monsters grant wishes?
are these voices whispers?
Or kindred spirits?
beyond this door, nevermore.

the grin wears a lie
breeze dances with the flesh
caresses scars, productive and eager
reagent, accomplice, to embrace
akin to tradition, expected
to devour the soul, willing
fell to both knees, bended
missed my arms, ablazed essences
there will be conseguences say I
as I ran to the hills and tripped over it

A mask is therefore a fixure
A mark token of caracter
Listing emotion worn like wool
Fuzzy to touch, itching to burst
what's the password. 

sexta-feira, 25 de agosto de 2017

I hearsay that I fear to show myself. Awkward..

The wall is not a wall
But a totem of hope warped beyond
Tainted by the ideal framed through skin
Scratched in a flurry of gestures, each farther
Inside a rotten concept of trashy desolation
There is no original ideals, only new modalities
Around flashy prostitution. Plastic too can bend.

A new layer does not protect from infection
That which has not changed, much less improved
We already been there, taking candles for viability
The hot wax for playthings, and before we knew it
Gone. Animals too can be impatience, and we feel
The same, running it down to the minimal effect.
In fact, I infer by particulars and sinisters frames
In my eyes we do not shout, we embrace doubt publicly
To float anew in the dauntingly high veranda
Nauseated with ourselves.

I talk in riddles not for I might be only one
But for many could take my place
And come up to the very same conclusions
Helping none, whatsoever, to improve my condition
This enfermity it consumes, ravenous plague of conscious resolve
I want to be somebody, rather, it becomes therefore awkward
Society, as it should, and by principle throws me that low baller'
"Now, now, slow your roll
Keep your head low
Your life is a joke
Don't make this awkward"
Cannot say I disagree. 

Bitter laughter rings in my brain
Or somewhere damm near it
Now that I achieved the bliss
Of ever wishful solitude
What comes next remains a mistery
For I got no one to contradict for way of passage
Direction or otherwise guidance, please send help