You are given one choice, my child, that’s all
if this goes to waste, you’ll be a dead soul
Be still, o restless
Be satiated, o greedy
Stop wandering, aimless,
hear the voice that screams: “Feed me”

That hollow that swallows you,
I’ve trod on it, too
this night so godless, so viceless
a boundless painting of blue

At least, give in to excess
if your heart still craves some more
perhaps you’d have more success
in killing the swarm, that you abhor

of butterflies in your belly
of whims, tormenting like crickets
of termites, as agile as they’re deadly
of ticks, bloodsucking and wicked

Or maybe, they’d ****** your last breath
for our glorious sister: corporal death,
which any mortal, like you and me,
can never, ever, possibly flee

If misery is really what you desire,
then seek for a death that deflagrates you, like fire
a fetid explosion, or Chimera’s bite,
that nullifies the present and leaves nothing in sight

So pathetic are your tears
So petty is your self-pity
If life stole your most blessed years
steal something back, be greedy

Be an imperfect victim
with no hope of being healed
immoral, filthy, unrestricted
may your flesh be a temple, not a prison where to yield

Stab in the back those who betray
loot, lie, be as treacherous as you may
perfidious warp to a diabolical weft
of the delight of revenge never be bereft

Be welcome those that despise you
praised be those who fear your name
cut to pieces, until they’re no longer the same
the decency that harmonizes, the kindness that disguises you

How many centuries can last
walls glued together with spit?
From the debris, may a joyous uproar blast,
the vital ****** of the fallen angel’s wit

Legends say that “to build” is the verb
of those enthusiastic for the now;
coincidence has it, that they conceal, perturbed,
how much of their own life they disavow

To die a little is necessary,
to unbuild every day is a must
so that it doesn’t shrink to a sacred ossuary
our own Being, to an altar covered in dust

Let it become a chalice overflowing with blood
bubbling with the rage of battles lost
don’t forget the defeated –their life had a cost–
as their last damp breath erupts in a flood.