some pray looking down, some do it looking up. some do not pray at all.

I found a letter adressed to Santa circa mora than 20 years ago

it asked questions to which my reaction blunted the reflection

on the mirror, on the puddle by the curb on which I forged strength to raise and carry on

got once we crawled so we may raise and erect walk in control of our very step

I firmly believe we recreate memories to better suit our needs in our sleep

renegates to the truth, we combat emotional damage with fairytales and happy endings

grey matter highs dissipate words that generate conflict in the sounds of resistance

to extend my hand towards a child and get them on the path,

that's not a lot to ask for Santa for, right?

looking feral and wild young one as the winter bites back

my mood worsens in rooten fashion, I do growl to the darkest dark

dig, scratch and act cold towards the good vibes tempo

be like a fool and lose all control but keep it a secret?

will it happen again? are we ear marked to become token entertainment?

the water chugged by cynical egocentric megalomaniacs and somehow stability

battles boredom as it pushes IQ upwards, morality to the sidewalk and few notice

if I could not change the world or know everything worth knowing

I sure would hope to had a crack and half a swing at doing this thing some call living and growing

up.

doctor what can you prescript, sad songs lately just do not quite hurt the same as if I was no longer welcomed nor invited to the ball and now I feel unsure I can love myself

crawling up my forearm

dragging along the guilt, bitter and daunting

at sight, venomous I am assured by insecurity

confused by the realization I cannot trust to identify what is real

distracted it was so fucking hard by the reflection of what composes the surroundings

lately my phone ringtone is my worse enemy and it did little

paralyzing my actions, controlling my reactions

pursuing to wash away the conflicts flying at a million miles that winter frostbite sensation of expectation meet disgrace

self-control is no longer enough and words might not suffice within the ears a buzz

to placate nor stem the overflow so loud that may follow

father you carved a map towards dignity without warning

that it stood so near and clear in an open rainy day across the dwarf gold

a leap away it sometimes blinds me from what I sought to strive, in full display should humanity triumphy upon thy enemy

a token anyway, do fade away dreamer of a dream as I choke tears

this scars and night terrors crash like wild waves at my core, my centre

chasing happiness like addictions chase highs, we never stood a chance

because we are not equal and that road is a hill on a steep incline friend

we are doomed to fail and I assure you should we suceed we would surely capsize

towards the other way and snowball towards our doom as surely as this tough love education

sows resentment and trapped screaming, there is however still skin to scratch

and doubt to nag at, have at, tryst at

I need not a doctor for my ailments  for

for you must understand it is self-inflicted  for

for my downfall can be prevented with due entrapment  for

bind my hands with handcuffs and leave me prisioner  for my sin is existing

as I struggle to my feet and jump off the ledge towards that rainbow

falling I do not forget is the easy way out, gravity is an ally you see?

I am stroke with curiosity to follow that same rain

downpour, down under

you ever felt the urge to run? well I just have to

I just cannot defy the urgency of today

when it surges and embraces so loud and clear

this is the way it has to be? that shit means nothing to me

you listen here, you do not own me and might as well disappear

blep blop off I go on a hop,

I am much better without and that I can be better still while waiting for a red moon to wish upon.

what remains, it follows.

dear diary, you can use me

draw blood upon the soaked page

let only the iron reside and linger

in the words that ramble and move

like static they dress down the perfect timing

holding my head in case it decides to roll under

the table once again in a feat of mischief

the supply of breadcrumbs is getting shorten

by greedy fucks with eyes on the hanging fruit

youth and boomers idolizing vampires wishing it could be them

not studying upclose the source material unfiltered

shapeless dreams gliding between certainty, diffusing nationalities

in principle we are all connected, a matter of conjecture hold in profund suspense

attaining the possible by peeling the wickness from within

a parting gift, felling the duality of hypocricy with a crunch

developing a better coping mechanism that supports repouse without due sacrifice

we shan't be content with anything short or less than uncomplicated

that would be bizarre. 

perhaps the wheel has turned.

can you trust what occupies the imagination?

bewildering and thumping nations redefined

a running gag of sorts, a mercy for a low blow

bruises that heal deeper than we intent to show

the new heights, walls we have yet to climb

foretold the dates disclosing the tribute

the ritual, routine and clockwork it demanded

we are afraid of war so we draw dilapidations of hope

greater objects overturned by machine manmade

men earned this desolation ringing at the heartstrings.

beginning to recuperate my breath pace

alongated nails whose metrics tempt me

as I grind imperfect teeth rolling on the tongue

kept shut, not much has changed since otherwise

in need for sun rays

what could not stop me left me for dead

December has rapidly become the most hated month

of this advancing calendar we have been forced upon

the aftermath of chance adds to the effect of fractured brokens

wounded prides, afflicted egos and children sat listening out for static

as the month closes so does the mouth.

Hair crawling atop your neck

round the bend, general panic

raise the stakes, up the antes let us start a war

the protector of this castle lays buried on that hill

by name we soon forget as the weight colapses without air on our chest

a disregard for what we want in exchange for what they got and boy do we care.

boyhood outgrown purpose, trampled upon with intent

the very same son, the very same blade we sharped

just good business for we are not animals.

 

to wrestle bread before hunger swallows us both, what a fraud

a peculiar charade tasting rather off

a slaver stings with discontent in a manner

where the gutting perseved lost is taxing

anxiety is put to rest

we are all overdue the reckoning

a fitting match to the sinking feeling some carry

with abiding breath.

hold on, teardrops only murk the evidence.

'today is the younger you will ever be' hereafter,

happier ever after? not quite sun and roses

in this cartoon we do heroin and breath through our mouths

lowkey we got toothache and yearn for a ride in the ol' times

ya' remember when hunger carved necessity and linked arms

bounded working limps in preservation in case you ever needed them?

now we fester, now we decay

I realize now in a shower resolution the affliction

my absolute distain for youth and looking mighty fucking young

the time bomb of isolation besieges me from below in domineering fashion

'of course, fuck', astonishing that it took me this long to aknowledge the issue

my bad, my mistake;

in truth, growing up I sought and conquered the herculean task of aproach

for I had a bounty to make 100 friends and for that I fought and conquered

play by and for play, children do not let details and social cues detach

nor language barriers or whatever be this fucked up universe overulling what beacons

never a slave to fastidious obstacles nor self-doubt

slaying demons left, right, center: what is lost or stolen can be replaced

now we adults are emptier for we carry hollow shells for souls

and heavier still we drown in regret and the waves crash against our supressing thick skull and skin

it comes to no surprise I hereby reject adulting all together,

fairy dust and all

I shall swallow Tinkerbell and all

I shan't ever grow up,

I did IN FACT that promise to myself and reignited and zealous fervor

indeed to keep whilst I am barely together myself

to mend, to heal

there is still time to keep the good word,

perhaps then reality hurts shall not scar so ugly

and if not, come and get me

I am outside making friends

instead of holding my breath and turning blue.

careful where you walk

you may find trampling broken dreams for glass

shattered amidsts the ruins of echoes from cries far

between the multitude of voices shown to amount to

a choke of valitation, may you rest in peace for the end

was violence through silence and to be fair that sounds

like hell to me, supressing words that we could let go

off knowing not what we misunderstood, spell out for me

what you meant with That instead of standing down arms

limps, legs, whatever built paradise might as well carried on

working to elevate, alleviate the pain we now share lost

in the crowd, a burden that glues emotion to the skull, pouring

a poison so fucking infectious that I feel compelled, invited

to jump, set off that gun

I used to not being okay with not feeling quite right

partial to the imbalance, sensible and ally to a cause

unified in the synergy palpable to the conscience

maybe I did grow older and bitter this year

an uphill battle we could I suppose watch pass us by

bystanders of change? spare me that holy river,

I like to think I remember the dead

in the same vein I wish to be held,

with due, earned, respect. (a hard boiled medicine that tastes like sand)

fortunately my blood cannot raise the dead,

believe me I tried (for scientific certainty).