Your soft, gentile hands stimulate a capable
trigger that anxiously shoots them down, one by
one, as the bullet approaches the body, as it
threatens me, they run, they shake out of fear!
With them, so do I. The concrete pavement burns
beneath my feet, I can already see the years ahead
of me, running at a pace faster than mine.
Tall bright buildings, they all crumble, one by
one, becoming nothing more than a shadow, rotten,
as a junkie pays his guardian pregnant angel, as
the angel feeds the soul, heavenly fix.
Misguided frequencies running through their minds,
feverishly amounting inside, there is no room,
there is no reason. Reality becomes another vivid
video game, in which they destroy all existence, as
existence itself patiently bleeds, praying to a
poisonous religion for this game to be over, as we
I watch them fall, by my side, in front of me,
every possible angle from the three hundred and
sixty existent has someone falling, with their fat
bodies, piercing through the concrete, to a free
fall escorted by rain, and a symphony of lightning,
as every single atom is absorbed by a black hole to
a forgotten alley.
I am afraid of the fall! As I think, my hands
shake! My body relies naked at your bright blue
eyes, as you approach me, as I realize your beauty.
Mad angel, heavenly figure from every religion
known to man, Muslim, Christian, walk on our flesh,
burned, petrified by divine intervention, smoked by
them as any other cigarette consumed after sex.
The poison, the alcohol, the holy water of our
Saint Lawrence of Rome Holy Grail, it is provided
by those whom consider our thoughts as sins,
whom condemn our existence until the very last
conscious breath is taken,
whom knock on our door, five and six times a day,
to preach what they believe to be the salvation!
Black flannel suit gods, nostalgia, they fill my
ears with shapes of melody.
I hear them every day, as they sing, out loud, the
crushing monotony that is my routine,
I hear them every day, as they sing, out loud, my
sadness while looking at a picture of the great New
York City skyline,
I hear them every day, as they sing, out loud, out
of despair, watching me consume myself while
resting in a couch soaked with sorrow and shame,
I hear them every day, as they sing, out loud, of
what it is to lose a father, and of what may come
from never seeing him again,
I hear them every day, as they sing, out loud,
there is gold and lust in their sound, while we all
shake out of fear!
I fear despair! As I once sat down in my bed,
watching a white candle melt, down the addiction!
These are the walls of my skull! Meltdown!
The bursting fire, hot, steamy, meltdown, melting
me down! Not before corrupting my organs, alcohol
for the liver, smoke for the lungs.
Until you finally touch me! Holy sexual angel,
beneath the sheets we love, blasphemy.
Your delightful figure, so carefully put together.
Silk made shoulders, in which your golden curly
hair falls, only to rest, brushing them gently,
with a jazz soul fulfilling scent. Your smile is
cocaine clear, as the most beautiful pearl, widen
from wine red spilled hands.
And your eyes. Your comprehensive thundering
stylish eyes, they don't judge my thoughts, nor by
whom or what they might be driven.
They simply carefully observe me, with such a
They wear makeup, despite their true beauty,
ravishing black eye liner, light purple toned eye
They smile! Your eyes smile! A small wrinkle,
timeless, defining each and every understanding of
age. Creation at its most fervent state, how can
such a foolish act be made! How can you appear to
me, angelical much needed hallucination.
Behold mother! Behold father! This is the women of
my life! This is truly divine intervention!
At such apprehension, my being gets lifted. I now
sing my vows! And I love you, and I will hate you,
and I desire you, and I will despise you, and I
devour, and I will devour, you in bed,
passionately, late passion ally, as you tipple my
sweat, and I pierce your womb.
And them, the last ones standing, they keep
running, dodging the slits, stepping on burned
And them, the last ones standing, hijackers of
limousines, fade away into a premature fog of LSD
and martini, never to be seen again by the visual
And them, the last ones standing, in a local bar at
5 A.M., drinking from the same obnoxious fog in
which they fade away, deliberately doing so to
obliterate their bodies.
And them, the last ones standing, daze, as they
live with chivalry, four half naked scabrous drunk
men walk on a desert in Nevada, United States of
And them, the last ones standing, whom drove those
limousines across the unknown known universe, only
to crash upon a stained mattress, madness, alley.
And them, the last ones standing, their carnal
vessel putrefies quickly, only to be swallowed in
boiling water, their fingertips stubbornly plead
their case to stay at the surface.
As I finally watch the very last brilliant mind
drown in ashes, as his nakedness disappears, with
one last Rock n' Roll guitar solo, they rock, they
roll, I can´t move,
I can´t walk on water,
I can´t spread any sea,
The river I now glimmer belongs to my tears,
rebelliously disobeying to their natural course,
upwards, straight to my insides, with one last