I want more and more of you,
not a drop less.
I want  to drink you up in a full cup of toxic lies,
not a drop less.
I want to swim inside your belly and soak myself in your sweat,
not a drop less.
I want to dance inside your mouth and taste your words,
not a drop less.
I want to drown myself in your ******* and feel your desires,
not a drop less.

I want to bathe myself in your fluids,
not a drop less.

I want you, to be the only drop that touches me in this storm of love.

Dust is my only memory.
White is the only color I see.
Emptiness is my only pulse.
Solitude is my only shelter.
In between all this chaos of nothingness lies my brain in a box of cigarettes.
Smoke becoming my only lover.
Caressing me with its ashes, while hypnotizing me with its nicotine.

I am looking for my mind and its nowhere to be found in this asylum
of heartless consumerism.
I am smoking my hopeless life away, with each cigarette.
Slowly burning my insides with its fatal dose of love.
Whispering: "ashes its all there is left after death, my darling."

A call changed my life.
I can hear her voice shaking, grumbling about the unfairness of life.
It has caught me in a daze of unexpected news, of an unexpected loss.
Life has cheated my faith once more, taking his soul to a restful haze.
But his journey just started, life is more than a physical presence.
He is now in a spiritual journey, in a mystical paradise of eternal happiness.

My tears are his new ways of caressing my cheeks.
My numbness his way of hugging my veins stopping with it all my blood flow.
The blood that carries his name and genes through rivers of crystallized waters.
Making each drop of blood a diamond of inherited richness.

He will now be my life companion.
My only confidant.
My only light.
My only serenity.
My only joyfulness.
My only guide to a peaceful life.

You are now the ink of these words I write, the message behind each line.
You are now my purpose for life, my biggest light of sunbeam that each morning shines.
You are now my ANGEL, embracing me, with each breeze mother nature gives me.
Making everything less painful.

My life will forever smile while looking up at the sky.
Just let me know how glorious your life is now, resting your head on clouds.
Our vows, will forever make me proud.
Making your memories into beautiful sounds.
And healing with it the wounds you left, when you decided to fly.

Just let me know how heaven feels.
Grandpa.

You will discover me by then, oh yes, I said it.
Not now but then.
"Then", it can be later, tomorrow or maybe never.
Not when you touch me but when you feel me.
Not when you kiss me but when you embrace me.
Not when you talk to me but when you listen to me.
Not when you **** me but when you make love to me.
Not when you judge me but forgive me.
Not when you try to change me but accept me.
Not when you get to miss me but when you get to need me.
Not when you say I LOVE YOU but when you say I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU.

"Then", it can be later, tomorrow or maybe never.
I just hope that you don't hate me by then.

As I write, my fingers think.
My mind listens.
My ears talk.
My mouth smells.
My skin tastes.
My eyes feel.
My heart sees.
The page I'm filling with words embraces my soul.
The only thing that never derails its proper function inside this case of imperfections, my body.
Bonded to my delusional soul, the only ink that writes for me.
And as I write the words dance to the melody of my insanity.
Creating psychotic musical notes sang only by those who suffer from my same neurosis.

And as I write, we all frolic in this enchanted world of dementia.
And this I write, tomorrow will no longer exist.
In the world others call "reality".

And as I write... my maniac self laughs at normality.

I paint my life, in a white canvas of unexplained blankness.
With my silhouette, the only brush that paints.
Using blood and tears as my only colors.
Sorrow, as my only shadow.
Creating a lifeless face a lover will soon forget.
Leaving my body longing for a new painting.
A new empty canvas to fill.
A new soul to trace my charcoal lips on
Burning my memories on his skin with every kiss.
And calling it my master piece.

Holding me firm, I can feel it incarcerating me.
With my ankles bruised from carrying the same heavy chains, day by day.
Chains, that will keep hurting my ankles with every step I take.
I can hear them squeak, tearing my tympanum with every drag.
Reminding me remorselessness that I am one more slave.
Working under its rules, shaping my life with my every breath.
Punishing me with all my memories and rewarding me with an unknown future.
At night it laughs spitefully seeing that it has caught me in its timeless web of an insomniac hex.
And in the morning it plays the same joke seeing that it has caught me in an eternal doze.
I wake up , following the ritual it has for me, slapping me in the back with its whip declaring its power over me, as my owner.
At 7:00 am  I wake up indoctrinated by a false faith" Thank You 'God' for this new day ( I thank a 'God' I do not know a 'God' I do not follow)" I suddenly feel confuse.  
7:30 am; I shower.
7:40am; I choose my outfit, one in particular that will disguise my insecurities.
7:50am; I  have breakfast. My palate already knows the taste, and it protests intensely for a new tang.
8:00am; I walk out of my house, feeling the wind through my body silencing the cacophony of the chains and the beeping of the time clock they hold.
With every beep, I realize I can be late. I rush.
9:00am; I start my ritual, managing papers in an office full of sick people, just like me.  Moored by their own chains to their own sorrows, with different time clocks and slaved by the same owner.
4:00pm; I plead it to go faster, to show me mercy. It laughs.
7:00pm; It frees me from my work routine, I thank it before it slaps me in the back again.
8:00 pm; I'm home the chains feel looser now, and I have a break.
9:00pm; I eat dinner same flavor, my palate prepares to taste the same.
10;00pm; It orders me to go to bed, to laugh again about by insomnia and wake me up with no pity.
It doesn't care about what I need, I go under its rules.
It threatens me everyday with my memories and it frightens me with an unknown tomorrow.
And, I only have 24 hours each day,60 minutes in each hour and 60 seconds in each minute to do what the calendar of life has for me .
I was convicted with a human felony, and I am currently serving a life sentence in this time machine.
I am cursed by time and my challenge is to defeat procrastination and monotony.