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. 

dark days

shell-shocked due to the arms wrapped, tightly, around me

what's there to say that can relinguish the down verse

a counter-spell cast to the nine winds

no longer an invitation to come along

a ratchet little thing, both wild and wrapped, tighly, around me

we are bound to meet again, intertwined akin to the fate of the drunk

and the canines that fell with age

silent like the cowards blessed with space at the funeral

dancing with boredom within

heart still beating not meaning much should you take a false step

no matter what you do, you cannot outrun neither karma or a bullet to the frame

the beaty of the truth is the freeflowing form

flexible enough to tolerate arms, wrapped around her ever so tighly

squish at a panic, scratching till ruby blood dances alive, majestic

magical fumes from underneath can only dumb you down momentarily

so I plea, I beg

hold me tight and keep your arms wrapped, tighly so fucking tight, around me

even if it's a dream

before my mind goes discards possibility

and refusing to see reason

chooses to awake to a new, darker day

where fire is both beacon and destroyer

and humanity is still filthy and unkind.

the frame in the wall

looks odd to me

it exists in tempus perpetum

like a comatose man wrapped in a blanket

hearing static on a broken radio, ocean by the window

a welcome rephree

betrayed by time, lovers and memory

happier in a dream where slowly I went nowhere in particular

under the vigil of an angel with a blurry face and a beatiful chant

the day I told about my imaginary friends was the day I put them to sleep

no substance can fill the void ripped on that forsaken day

echoes still like a vine tangled in the jungle tripping the arrogant explorer

now captive: a self-made victim

called the sirens myself, ready to start a fight

contrary to reason, wishing for pain

not satisfied by air alone, dreading setting the feet off the ground

hammer to stone, sculping a storm in order to kill the vibe

that somewhere along the reins has been swapped off my bleeding hands

under the guise of a lesson the seasons have come and gone

the architect of my own way out

not the strongest swimmer;

as a child I stood proud of my ever growing sheel collection

loving to play pretend, wishing for naught but laughter

as a moody angy teen the dark that terrified me nurtured me in silence and concealed me as it dragged me under the cloak of violence,

it was the knowing that my blood was the sea upon the ear drums that made me shatter my treasure and pride?

or a moment of lunacy, would I do it again?

was I hit the wall, swinging free once again

I meet a familiar pain and smile again confortable

understanding that everything ends but it does not need rushing

or a helping hand akin to the child that tangled on its own legs bruises the knee

firstly an uplift followed by cheering later on

one day that too will end.

the stars light up the room

how does something worthwhile ever come to be

is it accidental, coincidental perhaps?

a token of triumph about to invalidate the madness of turning back

face to face with the splendor of the stars as they rejuvenate my craving for life

is it the answer of a calling or peeking at the moon enough

to mirror hopes and dreams of yesteryear where the foolish youth burn away

as they should that vivacious great thing we now envy as rotten, yes rotten

we covet and sneer, attempt to plunder and dare I confess sabotage

not the key to Eden this stroke of a match

but alas neither wisdom nor experience make water crystal clear

is seems out of our control and quite frankly at times even reach

for those that locked themselves, voluntary, in a room ready for the pyre

are awaking to a self-committed hell

the fever strips me of all reason

the new founded pantheon cybertronic, makes me spit blood

it is not convenience we fought for nor earned

there is no lounge in what is being lost

the tragedy being confused with sexy vampire teeth

as it installs, sinks in and shifts senselessly

no status quo nor quip can reset

the level we have ascended to

still so far away from the stars:

at first, a simple life

when laziness proved too toxic a good one would suffice

when that did not materialize as per chance upon my bosom

a life of my choosing and within my grasp would have to do

perhaps Youtube or googling it will guide me away from this crowd

strangers new to me explaining me something I shan't follow

nor get It right.

a starving man eats sins (at the beckon of despair bellow the fire)

by the bottom where the darkness runs rampant

the craves taste like a friend, the same

that shovels the grave, amends

a loose knot comes undone by neglect

just the same as the wind unties and the led hand dooms us both

when patient and resolve have simply had quite enough and giving up

condeem us

to memory.

on a lane, not the fast sort

where souls wander

and music is both disconforting and restless

on a past where the button that says delete does not exist

a blow out of sorts is localized, an open secret

to be taken out in those opressed

in this haunted house I feel no love

not that I tried hard to earn something I felt was freely given and deserved

the trickery most of all was to feel forced to leave

all you had to do was ask: order even, a prescrition to a madman on the prowl.

shot twice in the chest, once in the temple

vulnerable once, never again, a job beatifully done.

what am I waiting for feeds my paranoia

hand over fist all down the throat, forcefully

they say suicidal man regret it at the last 

and with backs turned to the sky they face the ground

and the thought does not mellow the storm, perish the voices I am missing

something. 

the aching of dragging chains we refuse to remove

for need of punishment is a burden not worth receiving

nor sharing neither for keeps as a lesson learnt

I broken the mystic that loving someone or something would somehow save myself

that first must be a gift born and freely given to oneself

once the mirror is pieced together and smiling back at me like I want it to.