Bloody Lips

It was the blood spilling out of my mouth.

The words barely coming out-

My eyes are losing their life,

hope was lost and still my faith is strongest.

With your words in my head.

* * *

Falling for death, falling for failure, and Loving her drew my desires out.

Her blood tasted so good.

Her scent was full of iron and crimson in colour.

Asking her to cut her skin she replied only after you taste the blood I sacrifice-

On my knees under the beauty of the Sun it tasted like no other has

My tastes were young

my initiation was over

Like a beast after knowing its desires

My actions were uncoordinated

It was she who pushed me to kill for her,

But my Love for her drove beyond reason

It was hell where my last days would be spent with my lovely death looking down upon me

Tempting me with more futile actions she asked for more blood to be spilled in Her name

My time had come and gone, the end was already neigh-

Fast forward

Lets not mince with action and much less words.

* * *

waiting for someone to come out of somewhere

I cut my self yesterday-

carved your name into my skin.


Bleeding out, the blood made my feelings go away-

Once you drew my blood and it hurt so good

Now the memory cuts deeper than it should-

it was the pleasure of your mouth

Like the last breath of my heroic suicide, you let my knife outline the pain under the Sun that day.

As if to bear witness to the
biggest of my big mistakes,
there was thunder under-
ground; a ripple expanded
through the rock beneath my
feet, and I almost lost my balance.

Multiversity, S.O.S.
Grant Morrison via
past loves present

There is an obscure object in our desires.

you wanted the best

nice and easy but it was so hard

knowing too much meant leaving you


In my old times, when we were young

it meant more to me

who’s who?

it meant more to me than most things to be with you

before we met your picture was found in my paperless wallet

thinking, back then-peels away the layers of your true skin

it was never going to be what the past had shown me

Every time things are special, they are different.

in new times it’s necessary to never conform compromise and crowd.

Holding your ghost close to me, before you had a face, we learn to dance together.

All my letters are sent to Alaska-

Didn’t know anyone so far away as in Alaska,

Once she said she was far away and gone in Alaska, from her friend.

To her-

All my letters will bequeath the emotion of a humanity with compassion

To be right you must understand wrong.

Some countries don’t have any mail

All my letters will go to a place where there’s no mail

My words were stolen and reused and recycled and that’s only two steps

One step short of my surrender allowed me to understand my sacrifice

My letters told her about some things that were felt yesteryears away

And All My letters are sent to Alaska-

Ahead of me, a revolving door of black glass cycled chilled air against my skin. Behind me lay 50,000 chapters of personal biography, stamped like countless footprints in the mud of history.

G. Morrison

its funny in the end, sometimes.
To be, where once you were not,
to like what you once did not.  
Being someone you are not-
like, only before and now,
its funny how it doesn’t matter,
its funny how…
the setting is the same, but different-

Garrison of Small Love


She was pain, she was torture,

She gave me the gift of opposite energy-

it was given and taken at the same time,

the ritual was to draw my blood,

Bending the rules, my will stopped her pain and turned it into pleasure.

Just an old man running out of time with an ageless princess-

oh yeah

it was all beginning to make sense,

the pain felt good- it hurt but the pleasure was divine

She said, she wanted to hurt me more-

She said, she got pleasure from it-

from hurting me her pleasure was given , and I pleased her well

She told me

in the beginning it meant nothing and now the sacrifice was not my surrender,

my passion was painful but, sweet and the bitter feeling was having it stop

it made me feel alive

help the first time

It happens sometimes,
like walking in a door, peering around a corner for the the first time.
it can happen, it can feel like a new experience,
and what have you done recently that is new?
Manuel and good were on the same page in some times
this time,
a drink fell and it marked the departure from another dimension
 it was then- not far from believable that today someone could look you in your eyes and walk inside doors.
While jumping from dimensions and having to reconstruct time in order to move forward,
it wasn’t so far- this, after that happened and it became a time-
Dimensions collided for the first time but in a beautiful crisis.
When two worlds meet, when they don’t collide but coexist at the same vibration
It all made sense to break down and not make sense, it was then that all my lives came together.
At once it was time, slipping through the passageways of dimensions suspend my disbeliefs and allowed me to  communicate with possibilities.

Indigenous north Americans’ land

Indigenous north Americans’ land

forever future-

It was then after we knew each other that all this was introduced.

Today can’t even explain the later future, none makes a clear picture, except yesterday-

Introducing my self again doesn’t seem to help,

and it happens every time, it’s true-

but, to afford the truth is something more than apologies, mis-happenings and unoriginality

blinded by my production, by the mode of my system, the operation seems consistent-

sometimes it seems that the same thing is different

she told me from forever, from the longest part of time,

from a dimension in the forever-

it was so and then it was differently so

remember, keep remembering, in time nothing is reality-

Kitty kat

Once you’ve done what you had to, they never let you do what you want to.

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