If I wrote my words
In blood
Would it be in vein

inverse my talent
to let go and
be what i'm not.

transverse my axle
and you'll find
a kind of heaven
greasing the pole.

what speaks without words
always, a riddle
unto itself.

the tree of life
is laughing exaltations
in polarizing resplendence.

bright bones are
jubilantly marching
ever deeper into the
triumphant unknown.

we are woven with
mystery, riding waves
of inherited momentum
on a sea of uncertainty.

ex mysterium, ad mysterium

and don't forget about
the punchline -

flatline...

God sent you
Me.
But you threw
away your blessings.

Am I healthy?
Am I healthy.
Am I healthy? What
Kind of question
Is that?

Am I healthy?
Am I healthy.
Am I healthy? Enough
To know whose eyes
See mine                  as prey.

I won't ask for much else
In the way of health.

Am I healthy?
Am I healthy.
Am I healthy?

Enough to avoid death in the short term.
*****, you have a problem with that?
It's ten feet, maybe less, to the door --
Remember when I sent that request ?
*****, you weren't invited inside.
I decide the clientele. You're denied.

I decide the clientele, for my health.

The truth is that I will hardly ever be
as funny as the one who makes you laugh,
nor as sweet as the one who makes you awww,
and not even as strong as the one whose shoulder
you choose to lean your head on.
I mean, I am all those things in my mind,
and when you are not looking my way,
but I guess those fictions aren't seductive enough,
hardly for anyone or for anything.

But my most serious fault is, I know,
that I have you waiting for a punchline
that will not come. I can feel
the weight of the bad joke, believe me.

I'm still waiting for the punchline too.
I got old waiting for it.

Useless memories that only makes me bleed
I'm about to give up, about to coincide
Lifes a joke and I'm the punch line
I'm on the wheel of time
Spinning around throwing sparks in the grind
Knowing full well things will never be fine
I never was something
About to become nothing

Useless memories that only makes me bleed
I'm about to give up, about to coincide
Lifes a joke and I'm the punch line
I'm on the wheel of time
Spinning around throwing sparks in the grind
Knowing full well things will never be fine
I never was something
About to become nothing

When will you realise that its time to stop?
To stop loving,
To stop caring,
To stop chasing.

Its actually a question that you cant answer.
A story that has no ending.
A belief that has no basis.
A joke that has no sense.

You feel the need to stop but you wont,
Because it makes you feel the love,
It makes you feel the warmth,
It makes you feel the joy.

It is a never ending chase of stopping and going ahead.
It is an unreasonable excuse to stop pushing and pulling back.
It is a joke that you put on yourself,
Yet somehow, sometime, somewhere, you need to stop

To stop the pain,
The questions,
The doubts,
Even the love and joy.

After all, every joke has a punchline...
Right?