Tranquility is overrated.

Can you hear it?
Can you feel that scream?

It suddenly arise
Fear will perish
The walls get broken
Everything is possible
Everyone is free

The past is here
Present in memories
Hoping that this here and now
Will be present in future

We're sewn of experiences
We're grown of black and white
'Til the day when fabric get to rip
By the reaper almighty

It's easier to leave
But who am I to deceive
It's harder to stay
But sometimes life is gray

Prophecies of a boundless man
With a voice that echoes perpetually and
With a raw and visceral skin and
With a mad and incorruptible sanity

No limits!
No boundaries
No plays of puppets of flesh
No superb joy of sadistic men
No whispers
No ghostly voices of men, of me
No!

Talk to you as I talk to me
Express me to you as I talk to me
Here and now with the sum
Of all experiences,
Of all memories,
Of black and white,
Of gray,
Of me,
I'll stay,
Here and now,
I'll stay...

Be one, two or many,
Be another or others.

Air that inspires me to be
(One, two or many).
Fair fires that breaks me into
(Another or others).

Water that smothers and takes
The reason of my birth.
Earth that sustains the sky,
Is you that handles my sun.

A sigh of candles for any one
Who wants a clue.
A breath of a former me
That blew death free.

An echo flow informer
Arises and goes with disguises,
For he knows his ghosts.
And so I stay. I and my host.

I'm not done of be
One, two or many,
I'd rather not be
Another or others.
Just be.

I sweep through the mists of uncertainty
Pursuing the picture of my soul.
This need I suffer is my certainty
That I have to be whole.

I attempt to picture my subconscious
I start from scratch until memories vanish
It's like I've chains at the threshold of my conscious
I've to end up in the end to banish.

Is it colorful or black?
Perhaps abstract.
Perfection wrapped in chaos
Leading to an abstraction loss.

The soul's anatomy of an heteronym
Who, so breathlessly, seeks his creator says:
"Not be ignorant is an atrocity, but
Be ignorant in paper is ferocity".

At least he had wisdom to be aware
That some ****** that come numb and dumb,
Rare, is not to despair.

The weight of thought at my soul,
It could throw me at the longest distance
It could drag me to the deepest hole,
But is not enough to cease my existence.

No matter what, I am a scribe for soul.
Bring all the feelings at once, for I've a curse
And until I've breath I'll describe
Death is only the last verse.

The simplicity of complex
The pattern of disorder
As the thin line between love and hate
Between reality and dream
Are vulnerable, corruptible
The free will is a dream
The absence of submission is a dream
A dream of spontaneity of a rational mind
Conformity seen as a synonym of happiness
Nonconformity seen as a synonym of craziness
These paradoxes of synonyms and antonyms,
Of simplicity and complexity,
Of dream and reality,
Makes life seem to be already written,
As if reality were just a story
With all this characters not living, but acting
According to rules implanted.
WE LIVE IN A CAGE WHERE DREAM IS THE ONLY ESCAPE.

The advertising of sensationalism
Or might I say:
A distraction of the cage,
A seduction for conformity,
A beam of war and poverty to keep us blind,
Drunken of sorrows of others
And to thank the Lord for what we have.

These are some of the bars of the cage
Bars to be broken with science and art and knowledge
Or as some may say: with craziness.