Egoariana

 Through open eyes I see no clearer than the blind. Misty, watery images run past me and I can’t keep count what each is. I hear no better than the deaf. Sounds race and I can’t keep them accounted for. I know there’s sound, but I can’t identify any familiar one. I’m feeling numb against the windowpane. I know it is glass, I know it is cold, but my senses fail me. Blinding lights awaken me from my reverie; deafening sounds scare me to death; I feel the air thick around me and I see them. They tell me with luscious voices to accept our little bet at the cost of my sanity. Seven devils surrounding me, pushi

 The Laughing Madness There once was a girl who wished upon a star "Oh please shooting brightness, come down from afar, Fulfill heart's desire and grant me my wanting Or else, goodness help me, I'll be close to my ending." In heavens above, a god used to smile He dreamed and he plotted, but always failed by a mile "A joke I shall play, so that myself I'll amuse But on whom can I bestow my cruelest of ruse?" As his fists clenched, he looked all around The Laughing God now seemed hollow and dark But then, a sound protruded throughout the veil And the god now heard a girl child's wail "A wish upon a star!" his body did quiver And

 Color me silent Color me silent...because colors just won't do anymore...so many shades and nuances that are incapable of showing what we feel...and we need colors so desperately that we cry in rainbow rivulets of tears shed for the moon and stars that glow in blessed dark still tainted by the virus of light...and I want...I want to see the purest shadow at the brink of sunset trailed by the shimmer of night-time eyes above...it's so obvious that I'm in love and that's why I'm asking you to paint me in silence because words are overused...wash the rust of noise and let the silent dark embrace us while you tattoo my heart on your canvas...

                                      Unwritten…            The ideal paradise we live in…. isn't it sweet the way we trick ourselves into thinking we're happy, dancing on blade's edge, unaware that we may fall and lose it all in the blink of an eye. Then why do we constantly feel the need to be reminded that we are so fragile?              It's a paradox. We get hurt and we believe it is better to pass it through words, hoping we can get it out of our systems, cheating ourselves that we'll be able to forgive and forget, but it never happens. It's all a great illusion, one that we sustain with our lies and credibility. The fact

 Revolving Guilt             I was staring at the man sleeping in front of me... hurled in an armchair, I was struggling with the worst hangover; my mind was racing like a freight train. Acid butterflies called guilt were flying in a frantic and fiery pace up in my throat and going back in the deep. The late morning traffic was the best soundtrack the situation could ask for. Psychosis of threads of dreams seeped in my brain... and the reality hit me full-weight.             How did I get here? Good question.... memories of singing, band practice and a guitar lullaby-ing me into a stupor... cigarette smoke choked me still and I was sudde

                                  Retrospective        …And we call ourselves creators, makers, but indulge me this: creators of what? Useless lies and images, copies of all that lies around, imitating the imitation and strutting left and right to be recognised as geniuses. Damned artists of right and wrong, of God and the Devil! Condemned to have a life in a system, to live in a maze, never reaching the key to the puzzle except in the moment in which we abandon ourselves to our fate, dying miserably, unknown and forgotten.       To live, in the true meaning, is to be acknowledged and admired, to be admitted as being right in a matt

 Der Epigone (Words from the shadows of stars) I sit and wonder now as the lights go out, How could I have let myself write on pages of mould and dust? On pages that will remain forever empty, with words of lust, With words so dirty slipped in the memories of rust, Taking heed to seek my meanings among the leaves. From the stars I came down and to them I'll ascend back, Leaving behind me thy inkpot and the colourful quill, Casting away words written in ink and blood, Killing the senses, waking the verses, ruining those ancient curses, Screaming in pain, crying in vain, splitting apart my dead and broken heart. For my unfaithful I

                                         Eternity in a shot          You're frozen and so beautiful in that pose there… no, don't move, stay just like that… the light is perfect and so is the shadow, clean and neat against your cheek… I don't know how I've never noticed you even though we've been staring at each other for some time now… I call it chance and please let me take your photo, because it would be so tragic if I happened to lose this moment in the eternity of seconds… there, it's a wonderful snapshot, but I'm afraid that I've caught your soul and essence in it… why won't you move for me?