if hell is where hope is sent to die

to limbo I shan't go

my knees dread the jump, skip and hoop rope rodeo

released from the coffin my heart has been set loose

signed and past-dated, gated and chained no longer

a trail ran cold, a chill lingers in the air

oh good lord those howls aren't dogs at all?

or surely the domesticated sort

how many bodies can my attic conceal

limps reaching the ceilling in a messy senseless rebellion

against space, a disgrace of unfanthomabal proportions

sinners deserve the fire but times are hard, oh so tense

economy runs wide and large and we cannot spare further pyre 

the magical number is the unsettling sort

not quite the power struggle of the narrow airways

brushed off whenever the party has died down

and we greet for one, last, time: farewell

snap, crack, tap; make them feel defeated

you are what you eat after all, not what you fuck (up)

good lord they think they can outrun me, aha

to smother is to regain control by borrowing time

to lie is to sound less ingrateful to the poor sods pleading for air

risen to dive in a pursuit anew

an ocean of souls betrays the lack of oxygen received

saturated by lines afloat, reeking of troubling desires

perfume, meant to seduce and attract

ensares, traps just the same

bones feel like porcelane when the call goes adrift

do I dare look back at what I have become,

is there, ahead, past the blurry horizon

precipice or crossroad;

salvation or dammnation

our forebearers do call, warn and protest

choice words we adamant steel ourselves again in natural progress

an irrelevant attempt at biting back in anger, protesting a fury

now dull, now echo.

you dont know what you have

until you lose it

isn't that a trial that fire cannot erase. 

close

the door, so the house

feels less

empty;

the draft

scares (them):

I open the airways

and what seems to be

spoken does not belong.

I tab my head, my eyeballs

a rush of seasons, frothing at the mouth

a blessing, a dizzy spell, weightless

purposeless too, upload that and distribute it as a reward?

I appeal and plead for fantasy, creativity

I teach spoken word and disconstruct disrepair 

I appear to be the same, palpitations deliberating whether thats a necessity 

adjacent to the arcane forces of wander and machinery

misunderstood as ran falsehood, the Internet has far rised past

Babel and its splendor, no wonder it casts a mighty shadow

atop crushed cultists swearing the upcoming final dawn

sacrificing brawn and mighty for talks of gold, wits and burning pyres of artificial intellect

capable of frank converse and creative genius

tasting palpable terror adrift a waiting game

sheep bleed real enough if sliced

and taste (like marital trials can too educate if one concedes not all that is sugar becomes caramel)

delicious. (divine guardian outside the hospital)

a man lost accepts to talk without pretense

when (they hide words inside a design)

confronted with the sheer magnitute of the habitat that nurses him

when, inside a building capable of displaying the true magnitute of mankind potential

such as a catedral the undeniable potential smacks him shut commanding worship

and finally when crushed by granite, now laid death by a ravine having taken a stroll by the hill

wrong turn, muddy pavement and now lonely, thats quite the problem

no matter what you do, time is a borrowed currency

saline in taste and of substandard make

a known quantity to both butchers and governors

a downpour, indoors at the steps of the turn of the colour leaves

a mop won't salvage this house from a deluge but a sea of bodies from that mob

just might, should they be real and not a reverie of retribution

at least angelic music is positively enchanting on autuum breeze. 

what else is there to tell? to whom

keeper of the frontier

salute the bitter elders, bless the ungrateful youth

it is a gorgeous afternoon where rain falls free

in parallels draw in both curtain and skin

should one just reach

before or after indifferent to

closing the door. 

I (do not) know

who whispers under my ear

occupies the periphery of my glasses

and agitates my soul as the spell

of boredom reignites numbers and troubles

come aknocking, a mockery of a worrying tide

today-tomorrow-freak frenzy-weekend

mesmerizing grace, oozing confort and confidence

strikes me foolishly awake

as if emerging to a stage wide enough for two

where prior this soiled cage compressed bone to fused skin

trouble to the narrow split burning mind,

fairness loaded to rules and the right to rule

gets between me and you

yes all of you and it wound me further to

negotiate with apparations, ideals

that consolidate, remnants of scarless shine

perfection incarnate for they are where I shone brightest

happy as I am still for in sleep I turn and burn,

I shout, scream, fly and cry

as a child I heard her callback

now I dread to think what I would be ready to abdicate

"Just let me go or take me with you" 

a plain refusal to engage, for I trust

(I know) the die I cast is a gamble worth a grin

for I believe it is the day I die I shall remember

the password, the codename, her nickname, her silluete and her name

of my imaginary friend as a child 

or the ghost haunting me in uneven grace

to this day.  

October reminds me

of a broken fairytale napping in

the backend of my shattered mind

snippets of a lonely fairy foretold by

a drunken third grade teacher at 10 in the

tropical morning chain smoking a senerate 

pictural scene of wonder, tragedy and lost playground games;

memories, counting and recounting parallels alibis

shared white lies and lullabies, bled by the pavement or our fathers belts 

of sweeter ends and love for all, let us share and tell by tracing fingers on moldy faded pictures

savages truly, an impossibility held barely together by betatin and stolen corn  

not a trial nor a condensed retaliation against Fate

destiny gifth and taketh

but the greatest lie strikes me firmly that Time does walk

besides oneself and the feelings grow numb still

blurry digits, ants crawl, phantoms haunt and give chase

on ever shadow, eyes narrow, obssess over movement

I must confess I detest the October blues

running deep, inescapable

delusion is to plead internally

from where safety is a mirage 

and from pained, dragged echoes 

one can only find misery and exausting dissapointment.

frozen in space,

it beacons THAT dread

stripping my sanity, sleep and serenity 

from cosmical wonders we pay tribute

to gasp in momentarily devotion, 

from little compreension: tribulation/attrition

in this storm I hope

the Eclipse involving me may spare

me the kindness of a

uneventful death of peace of mind.

my soul is bound to another and this shore

two broken shards do not match nor agree

in partaking of a resolution

sand reminds of a wasteland

and the word Waste triggers me further

into what abandonment eyelids can dissolve

in far greater fortitude than violence and stumbling 

to the force of gravity, rewarded with bruises

I used to have vertigo because of this same conflict

of wanting to want not to fly but being curious to peek

under the veil in grave longing

are Heaven gates golden or green?

if not myself, would you acompany me this Eclipse oh gone by September

call you brother November, promised to another

fuse me to the grounded embers, lukewarm

err on the side of wantings to cross the road

someone has to transport the chicken 

not for a reward, I am not that fiendish

the fox gets there first and the riddle remains unsolved

I only competed in this silly problem-solving games for the sake

of fishing for complements held against my name

with glee, radiant and sunny

shields ran on solar batteries still

moral letter from oneself delivered to a better untainted self

served in order to desist, honest tension

I see youth in a state of absolute panic paper thin

if I apologize for existing they let it go

as if I had a say in that excuse? 

Pull a face, match the facade and let's go. 

pastor

if I fall I trust

the ground shall be met

entirely, with sympathy if slowly

as the choir echoes towards voids embrace

we reminience as if caught, luckily, before we slipped underground

assured the sea breeze carries news whichever shape

they may be, occupying space 

tiresome when you rush to be spent

with a friend, past tense, that you discarded

a while ago:

a letdown to die lonely,

pitiful the murderer that chains an innocent life to his own

so as not to be frozen alone for the road they walk

is not connected and now there is one more specter

not to be confused with an unloved ghost; 

in the fringes theres a forest wild fire

not quite the march towards the wall as the salut

opens fire on your naked chest

waking up somewhat feral

curve to form, a bad omen to reconnect

hurt to intent, time scars just as alcohol burns and ignites

a opportunity is shared potential, both can waste and Be wasted 

igniting a lost fight condeemed to be let loose

destroyed then, disposed later

I may grow older, despite remaining sober

what was once broken has grown rustier still

in disuse or abuse, there was neglect and lamental misguided touch

who could fix Pinocchio now?

if not the whale, left to drown. 

it haunts me, assaulted in waves

betrayed by the bitterness of truth

infused by beating heart activating landmines

clicking cups out of repertoires

blurry faces

'not enough experience', what do you propose I do then?

in this spectable one has to learn and to hold to hopes

the experience won't sour the mood entirely

if what's left of my bruised knees is dignity

abandon the pieces: rebuild.

 

/understand I won't ask again

last time I got shoved

the skin tore I lament

the trust they took I care little about

discontent from dusk to a wave and a nod

in seeding discontent, lesser peace of mind/

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. 

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.