god flew through my coffee this morning;
an intellectual crow entered my apartment,
and it guzzled a sip of the holy brew
me? i didn't take notice, just took notes

a blind writer who seeks the extraordinary,
distracted by a strayed quest for himself
left eye red, the right one black, wolfishly
a tribe of suicidals shattered my eye sight

they were dancing in trance
they were singing in kid's voices:

"we forgotten who we are; our skins crumbling
we don't want to live inside your body; no!
we won't be your voice anymore; we be leaving

golemland is our destination, shelter of letters"
then, the tribe of suicidals left, depriving me of words

he would start whistling
Very random
and very loud

even at night in bed

and stopping him was
very much a
gamble

The caterpillar-like
stitches on
his wife’s arm were a testimony
to that

He’s never been the same
since his head injury
Poor fellow just had the terrible,
terrible luck to
walk underneath an overpass while
some teenagers were throwing
big rocks for fun

Now he kept calling the emergency
number and crying that
his wife had
gone missing when she’d be just
in the other room or at work

The neighbors filed
noise complaints
because of
his nightly whistling
and apparently he no longer knew
how to use the
toilet paper. He always smelled
and it was worse when
he climbed in bed
besides his wife

It was hell
and hell broke people
and tonight again he started whistling
and woke her up
and as a response
she started whistling as well

They whistled together
in the dark
under the covers
and held hands and smiled
after so long

you can't go back to dem buildings
let it be, hashtag smorky, snakes
from the face of the heavens it's
a quiet view, this place feels like home

you can't go back there, tribulations
you know the mentality of cockroaches
you know their game and you know mine
you're standing on your own, decide

who could they possibly ask to fight?
energy, loaded brain, muscle flex
bullet holes, wild roses and benzes  
a quiet view, this place feels like home

who could possibly burn the struggle down?
in the voice of the enemy, you hear yourself
too many will fall, too many will collapse
you're standing on your own, my friend

you smelled like
cheap leather,
and cigarettes.

no wonder i had
headaches.

keeping your femininity
after you've
weathered unimaginable storms
is a high form
of rebellion.

why worry the world
it is inevitable
we will start again

I've drank the finest of wine
Down to the bottom of the bottle
Only to witness an ocean alone
Barely surviving my own hands

A fire burned through my viens
That was blew out by the wind
Breezing through the leaves
A calmness that sits with me
Before calmness dismisses me

I walked across the tallest blue sky
Where wide winged birds soar high
Til promises of white clouds turn grey
And so there I fell with the rain
Dripping through the lowest gutter

Many times I was buried, lying in dirt
Like a grave, needing no help
Finding the dark inside of myself
But I always rise with the blades
Of the greenest fresh spring grass

No matter what feeling I catch
None of them seem to everlast

mom is waving from a train
bro has been playing x-box
sis will soon be back from her moon-date
dad is carrying the ashes of his lover

everybody does something  
**** me until i hate you no' more