Venho à minha mente contar-lhe imagens
de um sonho passado.
Sonho no qual pude sofrer uma veracidade vivida congruentemente por amigos queridos,
sem faces e sem nomes.
Retiradas foram suas vísceras,
logo antes de seus corpos imergirem
em um exacerbadamente denso volume de sangue
grotesca e plenamente apreciado
certos irreconhecíveis demônios.
Vieram dos céus os tais tiranos,
visíveis, mas imateriais,
sem consciência e inevitavelmente despreparados
para uma luta justa.
Sobre os indiferentes, distantes,
mas ainda amigáveis e queridos companheiros,
ainda recordo de alguma ordem:
O primeiro não sentiu dor alguma,
bem como nada viu ou percebeu; fora partido ao meio.
já desesperado e afogando-se em lagrimas,
tornou-se borrão de um vermelho pesado, grosso e brutal;
Dos outros, três ou quatro,
somente tenho em mente os gemidos inexprimíveis;
uma junção entre suspiros e soluços
de uma morte nada convidativa e próxima.
Foram todos rostos sem faces perdidos
na espera do desconhecido fatalmente promulgado
pelas minhas ânsias.
O ultimo vivo me induziu a única ação possível;
pude cair meus quinhentos intermináveis metros,
deslizando, enquanto tentava me segurar,
por um material recoberto de farpas
que transpassavam minhas mãos,
as quais sangravam em direção a um mar, sombrio e obscuro;
me afundei irremediavelmente em minhas próprias aflições
até poder acordar e viver, em plenitude,
A snow storm passed my soul
lessn the suffering
Others dying its sad isn't it
My hopes crashing
My thoughts colliding
Different faces same words
Different places same voice
Teenager coming through
Won't please you but I got to do what I got to do
A snow storm passed my soul
To End the suffering
Act like you don't see whats happening
Its a cold world isn't it
And God loves a believer
But the devil is a creeper
Caught in a snow strom
Time stoped for me
But the world keeps going round
Spinning without a sound
Robed from idols
Loving the disasters
Some are playing roles of a master
Denying the bad side
Freezing my inside
Its nice isn't it
Strings plucked by cold fingers on cold hands.
The hand-bone's connected to the heart-string....
Sinew rasps against brazen cords, etching orchestral symphonies on the stone in my chest.
Riding the waves of screams, cries, songs...time.
Upon that crest I ride, ever away from that distant shore;
Ever away from that distant hope.
Caught in the tide of cold spring air.
Cool air sifted through fiberglass filters. Menthol kissing lips, freezing the air across my teeth.
Welcome to my body; lift me on your crest, carry my inhibition.
Invoke your calm upon my weary mind and let me forget I am alone.
Faces will be forgotten.
Sand covers cracks...sand covers much....
Time covers much, but not all.
Who will you remember best? Whom will I never forget? Who won't I have to?
The sand will fill the gaps, but...my house is clean....
Clockwise from the front, right: chap stick, lighter, change; nothing; wallet, gang-ties; pump; phone's in the jacket.
This is my identity, always with me - my companions. But none are company.
None can give what I seek. None, it seems.
Desolation is a feeling. And feelings console.
At least you can be certain of their purpose, at least you know who they are.
Who are you?
How will I know?
When will I see that wry smile and be certain of it?
Give me that stone heart, that I may etch my symphony upon it.
Let my sinew warm those brazen strings.
Ride upon my crest.
Be my Nicotine, my sand...my certainty.
As a child, I often looked up to the stars
But my eyes were often distracted by the man-made stars
Blinded for a few moments was I by these worshipped faces
Scanning them for a pure light, such as those above
But, human nature is to always seek more
More, that they were never able or willing to give
So I stopped looking.
I turned my gaze back to the vast skies
Never looking for satisfaction nor perfection
But I wait, with complete serenity
Opening myself to whatever wonders the untouched space may offer,
The little treasures that money cannot ever buy,
And constant reminders of the things I already have
But may have forgotten.
A cool breeze that embraces me, as his arms do
Endless skies are my love for him
That no eyes nor any means can ever measure
And beyond, the eternal presence of the universe
Always ready to keep me afloat, should gravity weigh down unforgivingly
That space, those million globes of light, my family.
Our blood is fuel to the forever burning flames
And even when out of view, they are ever present
You sneer at my stupidity, stars die you whisper
And state that I am destined to fall back into your clutches.
My dear, they do not die!
They create a path for me and others to walk on
To bask in more radiance and unconditional love
With stars that glow even brighter
Shining down on all those who look up.
in my father’s car, father driving, my fingers curled as if readying themselves for the wheel. father small talking, his dark chatter, my hands like jaws left open, horrified before the heads god plans to put them in. heads not to scale. heads trial size.
I worry the heat in my eyes is permanent. my lids worry as well and retreat. burn pain is its own person telling me I am long term its most bearable memory.
the hospital seems a distant campfire lowered by the sleepy laughter of the still beautiful. my daughter. who as a girl melted the faces of two action figures with the bulb of a reading lamp not to upset her brothers but so the figures could kiss.
I begin to make sense all by myself and nod to the dog shaped thing drowsing in the car’s murk just beyond my feet. politely father asks if he can help and I okay him asking me anything. he chooses the health of my sons. one in particular. I stick to the dog. to the puppies it ran from no faster
had they been aflame.
Why must i be angry,
Why cant i be happy,
Im stuck with this disease,
It slowly eats at me,
Causing pain and suffering,
Instea of the good things im enjoying,
The pain, the evil,
Cause that is my seal,
My call, my path,
I leave behind a trail of wrath.
See it on the ground, an on their faces,
I am the thing that thrives in dark places,
I listen to the rock and the metal,
But i have no purpose and im like the kettal,
Only talked about as if im a joke,
I have a purpose, i hope you all choke,
This is my life, its not yours,
Shut up and leave or you blood will pour,
Flow down the streets, feed the rats,
Cause thats where ur body will be left at,
The forgotten place,
The evil space,
The longforgotten sorrow,
Youll find me tomorrow,
Sittin right here, not a change in mind,
But thats because they left me behind,
Suffering within my own head,
Please kill me or let yourselves be dead,
None shall survive,
None shall thrive,
Just take this from me,
And let me be,
Take my anger,
Leave me with laughter,
Im tired of being mad,
Id wrather be sad,
But i dont care,
Just dont sit there and stare.
Im stuck in a state of semi anger,
Just dont touch or youll go over,
Over the side,
Theres nowhere to hide,
Your dead now,
I dont know how,
But ur gone so it doesnt matter,
How you hit the ground, look at the blood splatter.
Stuck between two names,
Stuck between two destinies,
Will I go up in flames,
Or will I be consumed by the beast in me,
I want find my place,
In this world that empties me,
But I want to disappear without a trace,
But that I know can never be,
One or the other,
I must choose,
Should I find love with another,
Or all of it will i lose.
Past thirty-two in two is beginning,
beginning to drag me down,
after shiftless, break less hours,
choppers land tragedy on the ground.
But I've seen
too many faces,
shared in too many fears,
heard too many stories,
wiped away too many tears.
I've tried to compress the thirty-two
and lace them with an adrenaline rush,
then roll them into a ball of forgetfulness
and paint them with an amnesic brush.
But reeling from the real forty- eight hours later,
with my respite shortened by burn's injury and time,
I return to the tall walled fortress,
where faces and fears are etched in mind.
His lips a tantalizing tingle of electric satisfaction.
I needed more.
Fingers explored each groove of his spine,
Farther down to the worn hem of his jeans.
As we closed the gap between us.
He smiled when our faces touched gently.
Pools of blue chilled my blood only to boil when skin brushed skin.
There was no scintilla of hesitation maneuvering underneath.
A willing victim of our ardor.
He smelt of sun.
His hands caressed my face as we continued to intertwine.
I thought of teasing him with a light lick.
Bit him instead.
We progressed further.
His voice like cream as we whispered into each other.
As my head rested upon his chest listening his heart pumping faster.
Such comfort in falling, you forget when it hurts.
i'm starting over,
forging my own path,
with new faces, and new places,
and nothing to tie me down.
i'm starting over,
taking a new perspective,
no more waiting, no more watching,
no more second guessing myself.
i'm starting over,
from this day forward,
i will be strong, i will move on,
and i will live my life.
i'm starting over,
and it'll be wonderful.
That the way your golden waves fall
in the most effortless pattern is entrancing.
That you have a surprising beauty,
and the intensity
you have when you study something really
hard only enhances your features.
That in those times,
I only make funny faces at you
so it’s not weird that I’m looking.
I let you see the scary cobweb-filled
corners of my soul that night
we stayed up for hours, talking about things
strangers never talk
that you’re still the only one
I’ve admitted some of those things to.
That all I want to do is
impress you, that just once,
I want you to look at me the way you look at her, love
leaking out of every orifice. I said
I hated you and that we were never friends,
but I never told you that those six weeks
we didn’t talk caused me physical
pain; your silence was like acid, burning
a hole through my chest, devouring
everything in its path.
I told you the first time
I heard you sing how much I love
your voice, but I never told you the
power your words hold. That it really did hurt
when you forgot about me at Christmas. That
the selfish part of me wants you
to need me in your life as much as
I need you. That you have so many qualities
I wish I was strong enough
to possess. That I really do care
that she’s good enough
to drunkenly kiss, and so is
the boy who almost raped you,
but I’m still not.
That I might see you as more than a friend
I still can’t really tell myself.