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Steph Portuguez Jan 2020
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.
Steph Portuguez Jan 2020
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.
Steph Portuguez Jan 2020
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...
Dennis Jan 2020
If I could make a tower
I'd make it out of you
And if the days go cold and sour
I'd climb to reach our rendezvous.

O' skin so clear and fair
Smooth like Mirror's reflection,
If I could stalk from way up there
I'd stare locked by your complexion.

But alas I mustn't touch
No matter the mortal urge
Or else it would be all to much
All discourse spells your fateful purge!
Annie Jan 2020

How distant
How near
You’re the only wolf I fear

Beside my nightstand
You stay
Such a safe play

A hungry lion
Hiding in tall grass
Perfect moments never last

Slow, steady
You make no sound
Yet I hear you howl
Louder
Each time you step away
Whispering a spell
“Don’t you tell.”
Eitten S Jan 2020
We’re off to see the wizard
The wonderful wizard of Oz
The one with courage, a brain, a heart, and a solution
The powerful wizard of Oz
The man, no being!, who has these wonderful things
The wonderful wizard of oz
You walk into his room
The wonderful room in Oz
You ask your questions
Oh wonderful wizard of Oz!!
Will you give me what I need? What I crave?
Please oh wondrous magician of Oz!
‘Why of course’ he says
For he is the wonderful wizard of Oz
‘You need a brain? Courage? A heart? A home?
Asks the inquisitive wizened man of Oz
‘Take mine and go, for I have no need of them
I want to fly away from this confining land of Oz
Take everything I have and let me float away
The man in the sky from Oz
Waving from above the clouds
In a wondrous balloon above Oz
You’ve been off to see the wizard
The wonderful wizard of Oz
And you’ve found, that he is a lost man
The hopeless man from oz
Twilight Breaking Dawn, page 329, Title of chapter 17
Empire Jan 2020
tw: self harm


Something’s wrong with me
I need... I need something
I want to draw lines
Quick strokes
Then pause to watch
Then pause to feel
It fill in red
It’ll stiiiiiinnngggg....
I’ll see the garnet drops grow
Until they trickle down my arm
Leaving a carmine trail behind

And through it all
Relief will flood my body
I’ll forget about everything around me
In that moment
The pressure is released
And I feel okay again
At least for a bit
Fantasizing can’t be a good sign....
Ellie Grace Dec 2019
We held so much promise in our youth
Believing that together, we could change the world
It was a time before the darkness had settled into both of our bones.
Before pain had found a home inside our chests.
We were just two people searching for something more
Some grander purpose.

It wasn’t until much later,
With the consequences of the years that followed on our shoulders
That we realised,
Instead of changing the world
We lit a match
And watched it burn
We weren't the heroes after all
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