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-
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.
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
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.
There came a day to say goodbye to Love-
It was on this coincidental day when we take a walk,
you can hold my hand but we choose to turn every once and awhile to look at each other.
we’re young and this sets the stage for every other time, we share something into the future.
it was drawn out, long winded and wordy, small words being thrown back and forth.
it feels like a story form, from foam, from forms of foam, it’s stormy remembering it was about- Love.
my eyes can’t keep themselves off your lips and they’re drowned in your eyes
why my being melts is a wonder to me
but existence is priceless
this is what it had to be, no other way than the way it was
he interrupted everyone all the time, just to blurt out the one thought inspired from what he had just heard, it’s just a story put into a situation
it was told he was the man that didn’t care, but all his resolve and the heart he wore on his shoulder showed his doubters his hate was his love,
to be known and to be remembered
to forget and not to remember,
being here has been so long,
the time has been passing me, never can you fall
and in the beginning the stature was tall but now it’s nothing at all,
the approach was much different but the landing was three points steady
remember to forget
when the idea escaped me, when time moved faster it was easier and now its slower
your wrong, that’s not the way it is- that’s backwards
control the effect not the cause and the result is mirrored,
There is a time when you don’t know what it is.
It’s all the times-
when caring for too many,
has destroyed you and left you alone.
There’s a time when your mistakes are just mistakes.
Even when we never want to die, death has come to us in many ways.
Love is, a rather unusual feeling, to express in a time when you haven’t a clue what it is.
It’s the first time… your kiss- tells the story for a memory’s lifetime never to be compared to the last-
as if, our hearts are sometimes big enough to over love.
Youth is the only criminal in breaking hearts,
because of all sins-
making someone heartbroken is a burden to carry.
Ring it up- on the phone with you
can’t act different
your sometimes foolish,
are you not,
when assumptions are made and
as if there’s no use
re view being made, your
and always failing, so-
act, a fool
There is a story,
about a boy who once learned, to love his enemies -in order to defeat them.
It wasn’t after he realized his own hate
its need- to be transformed into love
that -he would conquer his enemy.
it’s taken too long to leave the subtropics
my skin yearns to feel the cool chill of the evening night
my blood’s warm with your withdrawal
all the circumstances tell me you’ve forgotten who we used to be
we fought them-
all internal conflicts and
struggles for power, make me wish you were here-
year after year- it’s becoming more futile to struggle
one day my promise will be kept-
for you, for justice, for what’s in my words are more than
voice trembles with soul
lust, anger and passion drive me insane,
Alaska your so far
my every step forward distracts our reunion
is it too late to be on time-
he was addicted beyond hitting rock bottom,
responsible addicts plan for the circumstances
the apathy is alienated amongst all chains of denial
as addicts do they reason and turn fate into faith
when he knew it was too much, he traded his addiction
all else failed except for obsession
confessing his withdrawals, the only thing he had, left him-
self destruction comes quick and -contrary to a steady pyramid
even the best can become opposite to themselves
i hear the silent language better than i speak it-
Love was the only thing I could make,
This statement is false.
my beauty was in how well I cared,
I thought that-
I could create something beautiful,
I thought that-
all the hatred was,
only a defining characteristic-
of how good,
my beautiful could be-
when one man, for
whatever reason, has
the opportunity to lead
an extraordinary life,
he has no right to
keep it to himself.
Oh! that the desert were my dwelling -place,
With one fair spirit for my minister,
That I might all forget the human race,
And, hating no one, love but only her!
she wrote- inside my book of sketches-
There’s a letter on the desktop. I dug it out of a drawer. The last truce we ever came to in an adolescent war. And I start to feel the fever of the warm air in between. It comes regular like seasons shadowing my dream. And there’s not enough room in this world for my pain- signals cross and love gets lost and time passed makes it plain. Of all my demon spirits I need you the most. I’m in love with your ghost. I burn your presence and you know how I feel. To be awakened like Achilles w/you always at my heels. I’ve never been this shallow, so shallow I can’t touch- the waves are strong the wind is fine but the river is to deep. I am baptized by your touch I am no worse than most-
I’m in love with your ghost.
my love was
its venom coursed
through veins of self hate,
my drug was love
loved my drugs,
it consumed as much as it did good,
little by little,
stakes are doubled
there is- only one way out
reason your addiction
the end is but a matter of time,
things will happen
hate will happen
too quick and too slow-
once upon a time,
love betrayed its addiction to hate.
, and this tells us something that most people know from their own experiences: at the height of any passion worthy of the name there is always a istaking of the lover for an other.