Headache:

Illusion,
hidden,
non-existent,
unexpected persistence.
Annoying obsession with their secrets
plead guilty to an endless stagnation of the thoughts, watch the time,
don’t you dare to run that fast,
what an unfair distance of my past.

I’m in love with the moment I believed the lies.

Merry ******* Christmas:

The smell of December afternoons remind me of my beloved lost field,
a place where their fears didn’t fit.
The ocean at night, the foam of the waves, the unknown submerged, the revenge of the whales.

The sincere,
hideous,
laughter of the kid,
charming snort of embarrassment,
disaster and awkwardness well deserved for the king.

I’ve never felt the snow of the winter’s tale,
never believed in the white bearded obese man,
the red walking miracle in flesh or in the newborn baby on a December night.

But when I look at the skies, I do try to look for that star, I do sit calmly on the swing of my hometown park, tried to comprehend the distance between me and the unreachable sky.
Wish I have a big enough fan so I can scatter the clouds, wish I could find someone else
as intrigued and dissatisfied as myself.
But what if there’s no one up there?

Friendship:

When we were all friends,
remember! When our ties weren’t supposed to be unleashed, when our blood our pinky were as sacred as unique.
Remember! The sunset at that abandoned ***** beach, the ringing of my ears unexpectedly started to emit, that sublime but creepy melody, that made us all smirk,
as well predictedwe lost the sun that evening, my peers.
We lost it all, the carless state of being ashamed, the bruises and the scrapes.
Our disgusting bitten blue nails, the eggnog sticked in our greasy hair, the ashes from Mr.Bobby’s dog, the lust and hopeless mood on our road to fictional love, the promised goodbye, our last play on the trash, we didn’t know it was the last.

Bedroom:

When did I stand up from my bed? Looked at the ceiling, increasing emotions of defeated.
I rejected the successful, luminous path.
Neither abomination nor ambition, I spied on their lives, neither shame nor proudness for them.
They became the ensembles of relate, the shadow of triumph, the dinner for the lions.
I was still standing there, my toes were nailed to the soil, my neurons were paralyzed, almost to the void. My heart was projecting an image of familiarity, a far but so near remembrance of sweet tragedy.

Fantasy road:

That dead end road, that nightmare but dreamy  orgasam, I never claimed to stop.
I just wanted to sit, on that beautiful but desolated long street.
Heat penetrating through my **** cheeks, our lingering truth was shut down by the stormy roof, the instant picture of our nostalgic bereavement, that half smile of nearly achievement.

Smile in the war:

The yearn for crying of joy, bliss, felicity that feeling of undestroyed.
Never cried it but so desired it, I want my red lipstick to be wiped off, my mascara to be inked into my leather and soul.
I want my jeans, my sneakers to be burnt off, all in flames, cremated remains into its lust.

Episodes of coconut:

I’ve always liked to go through the tempest alone,
one day I won’t be able to let go.
I erased the paranoia by holding my tears, supress the tsunami in front of my dears.
When my voice breaks, my hands start to shake, I look away.
Please don’t hug me, my heart might explote, I don’t wanna sail again this flood.
I’m the the Dictator of Happinessland, I’ll be smiling even when my ******* will be full of sand.
I built the highway of miserable state, I found comfort on being wrong in a good way.

Friendship:

There are just shadows walking, now all I see are their ghosts.
****** up and vanished from the streets of the yesterday.
Actions, promises, we were gonna be last the ridiculous standing.
It never mattered, It won’t never matter.

Bedroom:

I’ll disintegrate myself supposing someday I’ll try my best.
I’ll decompose myself shouting from my mattress, my cave,  such a shame.
Friends are called dogs to me, human companions are named Mom and Dad.
The more pathetic it gets, hide your bother, don’t watch me cry.

Child in the last row:

I used to think that someday I would understand, “when I grow old I’ll celebrate to be them”.
The times at the backyard, the mud  in my palms, my old tamagotchi was my lethal weapon on display, these naughty aliens won’t get my by any chance.
I peed in the line to brushing  my teeth, nobody remembers how I cried, nobody remembers me  in fact.
I was the first to get caught in the game, my rolls didn’t allow me to run, I tried to keep my posture, I still fell, that garbage can just got in my way, what a winner I became.
The teacher’s room was our getaway from the tumult of recess, what a 12 year old badass.
We’re just practicing the flute, it’s too much of noise outside ma'am.
I’ll just spin on the chair until the bell rings, keep making sounds with this stupid instrument that I never learnt to play.
The Winnie the Pooh mural never meant nothing to my eyes, the words  “don’t rush and sit to enjoy” were just a low whisper to my ears. I  feel nothing when I left. I’m feeling everything every sunrise on this Earth.

The failure of the butter:

The bathrooms smelled like purification of golden ****, the humidity didn’t permit me to look at myself, I prefer to watch them put make up on their clean, pretty flesh.
I used to fall to the wet ground even more oftently back then, I weirdly enjoyed it, those goofy laughs gave me life. These times we’re inseparable, the grass and bullet ants will never disturb us at any predicted chance.
The destroyer was disguised as ourselves and the mysterious minion, the so called inevitable time. We were just pretending to care. “Change” the old enemy of many out there, a bittersweet goodbye to you, my dear idiotic  friend.

Heartache:

That old pathetic wish to go backwards to the point of start or the moment you’d like to be frozen in time. The universe might be immense, the complainings of my mind are not that irrelevant to care. I was built to properly play their master game. My energy is too low, pass me another battery of wise ignorance. I’d like to be normal and logical again. The acceptance from the tribe, the acceptance of our lie.

The end of the train rail? :

I’ll brusquely let my back lay on the soil with this rocking chair, I’m trying to restart this smudgy aged brain.
As I  fell to the void, as my spine cracked, my skull brutally bounced, my memory gently engaged the regret. The free gift of my private sold ache.
As a venomous serpent I spread the bitterness to my environs, my well kept tears where drowning  my designated  ones, their love was on doubt, I owned the fault. I owe them all.
The psychedelic trip was ruined by my old desperation, my frustrated self,  scratching inside from home sweet home of indignation.
Memories of ****** and self- joy,  blurred, exported and deleted to the never void.
I experienced the underated pain, I praised to gain and gain, I lost the nostalgia of the better days, I locked my desires of the will to vividly feel, I warmed up my limbs to melt down my putrefaction of thrills,  I sank myself into the state of not that sad and crippled ****,  I missed the unforgettable moment  of getting trapped next to the not so evil man, I poorly drew my fate, I’ll miserable forever stay. I camly crawled on the sand, “agony let me lay down”, I felt envy of the moon, I watched all of your glances, you all seemed like wondering when it was going to end.

Am I still here yet?

A minimal interaction merely coincidental took her to the sentimental, yet quiet lightly, semi-permanent fire, the affection for the imperishable. A minimal corporal translation, a dance towards a portal, a fervor to pair and properly resurrect.

The compost has been added, the fecundation has begun, the methodical development goes against the unfolding and beyond. The maturing is inconceivable, an initiation determined to dilate, jag and stain. A gamma of sentiments, a commotion with skills to afflict, an opening with a phantasmagoric impatient and tone deaf.

A parallel black hole, a wooly, scruffy, disheveled globe. With absentia of her specific use she'll roam. A drowsy critter, greater for its sluggishness and loneliness, unquiet for the incubation, the heat and the certainty of your motherly protection.

Medically oppressed to the obligation of live on, welcomed by a sublime lukewarm. A unique lullaby from the impecable chanter and so on.

That's how you nourish and exalt the delicacy, the consciousness slightly expands to the magnificence. This universe with billions of new galaxies, it expands with minor steps of your new innocence.

This apprentice with exceptional obtuseness, her leader replete with sageness and discreetness. The trail scatters its roots towards the rude plot. The captain aims with firmness to a rational outlet.

An enduring labyrinth you must traverse, a map with invisible lines and a myopic with no sanity nor quandary to march. Her compass does not fatigue with the disdain of the repugnant, unawared, insolent vagrant with no prosperity.


The pink portrait lays in an imaginary castle once dreamed by a dragon. This enclosed a precious legend, her bravery prevails and the growth of a rotten embryo, this **** with no significant phases, with dull patience. An ancient savant donkey, engendered with tender.

That tenderness was not her only role, her exuberant potencial to vastness and to the raw venture she accustomed herself. To the darkest and unimaginable brutes she dared to conquer, a non-existent God, she dedicated to redeem and master.

Her royalty and infinitude, this benevolence administrated my chemical sensitivity, always in me will entail. A kingdom without entrance to those venturesome to tumble. The iconicity of the most notorious infinity and empress, in the pink portrait will forever rest.

You blossomed rose, exotic with spreaded roots of thick gold,  just so far striking to the sun, you such a delightful mold.I, the caterpillar with enough amount of rolls. In excrement, the humanoids waste, I float. It's been so long, I haven't been able to drown, misled tragedy or not, I don't require to bloom, birth is overvalued but do I deserve to lose, or could I choke and get loose?


As most stories start, a major encounter was about to untie. The foolish timorous pair of flakes shook hands, "let's go lay on the desolated train rails," said the one with no plain aim. Shall we permit the sun to fry our flesh? Its asperity will darken our perspective trail.


A rest on the grass was precious for both dorks, they speculate how the moon was staged and the stars played betrayed. They deliberate a cosmic revolution has to be displayed. In the center of that field we pictured our own selves, we experiment the blissful act of creating a righteous sky, the carnival didn't even start, we were freed from the carousel of collateral harm. Just as we thought, reveries have no taxes to be feed and you and I we'll keep being fools as everyone thinks.


The day after tomorrow we'll reload our emotions of scoria, you tender companion to my dysphoria. As the music acts like drugs, piercing our veins and lungs. A good samaritan helped to exit the rage, an eccentric well danced craze.


Like black and white, there was she and I. She was bright as exuberant light, I was dark as a gnarly lamb. A convoluted attraction, a well designed pentagram, a blue but so blissful reaction. Will we ever be able to adapt?


We played jesters but so fools, an admirable klutzy ineptitude, a chosen existence of pure doom, a relative delirium yet so afraid to immerse into the strange, with curtains of normality we'll be standardly draped. People blessed the legend of the so called grey, their grins hide the stiff in their cozy graves.


Our night turned blue but the film gave us the smirk and cringe that we hoped to, our dialogue consisted in soul ache, unraveling the galaxies in which we'll never arrive, I dread. I explained the illogicalities that hid in the best part of my brain, "death, death, death what we must do while we still have a breath?" I raved, as a frustrated swine becoming a ham. So will it be valuable at the end? End of session, is this the real pleasure? Anyways, we farted and continued to rest.


As Peter I racked you with despair, we must leave, the train will not wait. As Wendy you refused to a fatal fail, I stood there with a floppy shiver and quivering legs. "I'm awaiting for the next train," she murmured with a teary stare. I didn't let my impulses aggravate her, I didn't inquire a "why," her gaze for a lane so bright, her ambition to overcome the loner side,
I had not the gut to smear that scenery of a chance. We both let go, mainly me, sure I needed her more, I tossed myself on the cabinet seat and controlled the sobbing of such a dramatic aesthetically scene. I have no imagery of her, visually blurred, not a last moment to recollect, a suitable Goodnight for a tomorrow in doubt and a cautious railroad without a collision to be found.


So, like black and white, a smooth, pigmented grey, there was she and I. Time keeps forgetting to stop drawing lines, we've got sadder and with a perpetual sarcastic shadow, we now ride in separate donkeys to grow in our own ...or to  hollow is the term that  I'm looking for. A glimpse of a visit to recall that we were never alone.

Aren't you afraid of happiness?

At this glorious moments of youth escape won't be easy when our willing to win is gone, we hate what we'll become.

As our laughter evolves into madness and as our heart machines rise to sadness, we ignore our realistic surroundings, we light up the fire
as we admire the cadavers dancing. The town will flood in blood, it will unmask the rottenness of the animated corpse.

We'll be a beautiful and strange memory, monsters waking up ghosts from the doomed century, withered roses are her favorite, sweet and mad ****** reigns our team, we're rich in poverty. We abandoned the routine tale just for today, we cry of joy, happiness and bliss, yes, yes, we feel everything.

Smiling is hard when you know it won't last, Saturday nights and ******* race
what a blast. Be respectful as you jump over their graves, have mercy for the ones who rest, have sympathy for their miserable fate. We'll enjoy our liberty as well.

The Devil invocation brought us a loser angel, he doesn't know where he belongs, we welcomed him home, he didn't have the honor to meet the God, he's skeptic about the existence of his benevolence. Dear rejected angel, would you have the kindness to tell us, are we gonna gather an army or are we just gonna have a party?


So aren't you afraid of happiness?

Ugly interesting kid, putrid smell refreshing the air. We feel unstable to be the essence of rebellion, I don't know what's scarier us or them. Wildness and hormones at its best. What a rich environment of power and ridiculousness.

What is life now? What are we tonight? We don't know, we won't, we'll just be.

Hard laughs, my throat hurts, cheap axe to cut their bones, they found the elegance under this blood storm.The town became their ballroom, they weren't alive but they are living by the sentiment of this night.

The Morning turned us sad, the storm never painted a rainbow, the lost ghosts never found the beginning of the end, they'll be imprisoned with the forgotten chains, the skeletons never danced to the blues, we'll be forever ****** to be sane, our souls weren't never new.

We were the legends of youth...

On the castrated futuristic **** a jump had been executed. I witnessed it, he adjusted his boots, felt like vanishing, the leaving of pure prudence.

Nothing makes any sense when the revision turns into continuity. The dawn is inexpedient to the lousy recumbent and its prosperities. The unawareness has made it to the core, therefore, the nightfall passes its independence and unfairness to our own.


Oh! My irrelevant donkey, that one, to whom I've seen tumble down and not approaching a grip. To his uncovered castration had been given a hopeless drop of newly celebration. That the donkey responsible for the path, the vintage tumbril cannot allow him to surpass.

Suspiciously probable for the conscious well wrapped up in the voluminous indifference, a conjugated apathy choir with granted presence and simplicity.

For him, that was, the moment, the freeze, the calendar date, the burial, call it a day. Of this cursed sequence, uncertain, an emerged insomnia confined in a sepulcher of paranoia.

It has torn, that liberty of unknown. His frozen bowels, it spans, a recommended dealer, I now ingest the syrup, it has darkened a bit in this limbo. The glucose did not annihilate the glutton, enough insulin was more as to come to delicacy, the quadruple figure does not reflect with no lens nor ability.

A hanging genital, fully outworn, in debt to the swelling and proceeding bomb. The ****** hole has been closed to the visitor in roll. A relic since conception, sodden with my self-distrust, muzzled to the art of action and disrupt. Poor dehydrated, yet to inaugurate, an everlasting sedateness of demising absoluteness and abundance of self-reproach.

I **** you! You irreverent donkey, to a steady furore and irrelevance, quite a damaging endorphin. Your tutelage did never flood me with yearness, it had to disguise with this sugar barrel of stupidity and clenching. This untainted audacity will never lift a curtain hiding the unseen and revolting... thing.

The mentioned tumbril and diluge of fresh sweat, a dryed armpit but a head transpiring with a tiny leap. An immense extension awaits for the indolent sailor, outstanding intentions to be a renegade, but somehow those rails just... get to him.

Hallucinogens of the stepmother earth, it is time for the urged recess. Bell, bell! I beg you to blare. Esoteric prairies dance to the classic and strange macarena, transported plebs by European train, to Trainspotting it reflects. That turbulent, nostalgic and wondrous effect.

Oh! My irrelevant donkey, all you see and will come to see, will puff out as everyone ticks. Your indignated throbbing will pace as impatient as you may. Your pant for conclude, but also recapture will barely endure. Nevertheless, your undoing will bash up all you never cared to do and take.

She persuaded the curvature of the seam. A dressmaking utterly agonizing, to reach the smoothness one must perceive, it has a regret with the difficulty of repetition of a trend.

Her foul purport carbonated the clear intent. But an impecable illustration did provide them with the warmth they intend.
The cycle lacked precision but their pliancy was a treasure so **** filled with her preciousness.


Velveted silk portrait embraces and confines a cause within a retrospective, a muse divides with a major uproar, one with the furor of nature uncontrolled.

The spell of glamor enchanted the failed dorks. They daydreamed fuzzy temptations to achieve their doomed ******. Of their antagonised exchange was born an incurable rage. The vexed source became cursedly recruitable for their loveable tremors, she had no knowledge of their cultivated adoration.

This will be our temple to our redemption and acceleration. It has consumed us all, encased conscious with translucent locked up doors.

The excitation has endure the incommensurable, the deluge did occur in the future. The scorn we throw to each other is acceptable if I desire to engorge her, it'll wear off your vile will, it'll grant me her savoury thrill.

Velveted silk portrait I beg you not to demise and ascend. We'll ravage the essence of your pure command, although, our adoration is the realest love spell.

I was snarling when I saw you embosom him, it felt like you were entering something delightful and never ******* ending. What was behind the blinds it wasn't supposed to be appreciated, we were always stood in a horizontal line and pulling harsh, all acts performed were a praying for your preference.

Velveted silk portrait, we encouraged you to revoke your beauteous den, to an addictive merriment. We'll howl with devotion to this new founding arts, her paint sparkled in the now dusky lane. A palace never menacing to our welcoming, an unfair entrance to the terribly but tender embodiment.

The gladness finally dragged us to our unfair refinement.

Creepy princess wore a crown that resembled my decay, she'll maintain the throne, a sensual manner, my queen, your slave.

Wet motel what dimension are you at? Pink ******* against the smudgy glass, a moisture so tastable I've been drained, I'm sensing the gush, litter of ants have sprouted quite slow. Meaningly thankful, good I couldn't feel the love, sure I found you in passion, the senses were restored.

Delusional you expressed yourself as, I felt mesmerized a total conquest, I surrendered as your domain. We both clayed the illusion of togetherness, over magnification of the premature bond. Boredom you gained, I bathed in burden, so overwhelmed.

You desired my feet to press your lips. My converse worn out, the odor of my sweaty socks. Precious biological function, your underground low. A portrait from me with love.

Wet motel did it ever even exist? Planned  words and actions are now sensually extinct. Wet white t-shirts, fervid rat holes they're giving us everlasting goosebumps.

A pale palette, Effy Stonem's eyes, attitude of a raccoon and unicorn stamped in stripes. My primary blush was the result of it all. The exaggerated adoration needed a reload. A wished improvement in the construction of a fabled globe, high speed typing and glitter all over this keyboard. I rejoice to these weary dawns. I've made you my own and added some more.

Wet Motel did you open the gates to Hades? The provocation of your pelvis revoked the doubts, straight now to quaint lane. My bell was encoffined, you rang it, rang it so abruptly. The now pagan summons the lonesome. The so very  lonely.

The vibrations invaded the shelf. The television drops and cracks as myself. My erectile lump started to pulsate, you roofless creep grab the T.V and lean, or  please just  leave. The asleep volcano it's about to erupt and finish bewitched.

Wet Motel when did your ghosts start attending the night? Were we deceased as we walked by? Could have I existed somewhere between her thighs? I executed my delusions, you impressed me with your spare time. It shouldn't be genuine, It is not. I fabricated the words you wrote back, you put a stellated rainbow with your vague expectation. The vain sentence was sent, although I ain't felt it my ablaze passion remains. As for you, the forgetting is in the back door, I'll keep my key, I have also stolen yours. Quite a dismal end, of my arousal, of our play pretend.