real.

dreamless:
i whisper surreality only to such ends
like shrouds for the vilest
which hinder the weak to the wise

my worries caress time lapsing
yet it splintered my fingers,
how unfortunate..
i meant brilliant pain
that is lack of sleep;
then i realised that i didnt realise anything:
i still want her tetrahydrocanabinol touch
i love her for what she relinquishes
is real
getting so close i can get drunk
without the sip of processing turmoil
but just
her thought for me to be dreamless

she makes me high..
let me close my eyes
crawl a kilometer of broken glass
only for her to spit on my face

maybe then
waiting seems to be just as a debt
longing to be forgotten
in an afternoon sky of this sacred condemnation

fed.

"'till armageddon
no shallam, no shallom"
the man in black said..
heaven has no power less of this
pallid birthing
by your very own mind and soul

i hear my heart palpitate
and these throbs allure
movement from where i will follow next;
god's love has me
taking these pills to sleep.
i feel evil and deserving,
the last drop gives me my soulmate.
lightning strikes,
supple and bright for the smoke i inhale.

i couldnt look back,
i just might see her pretty face
and smile in return..
that never was once for this moment
and never was for this,
but nothing
at all..

scorned of these visions
simulacre of religions fold:
who is meditating
surrender to the sound
coming from below,
and to be is there an unspoken:
"violence! have no fury,
who is now i need and feed upon,
i see a masquerade..it is them."
"for those who are vengeful
they are under his wing.."
how goes your TV eyes with consumption;
"what shall you do? what shall you do?"

my whim is his whim
shhh..the silence is not sudden;
and on with it
taken in wastedness
hangovers..fate
suicides..destiny
the night was with clouds of vaporous gas
an ocean so contrasted from the sunrise;
drive by with your 5:00 PM eyes..

no god..let this be hell
then i believed
this must be it..

rest.

here.

drunk.
stoned.
tired.
again.
this is it man,
that cold sweat seems like your soul
is crying those tears drenched
long dried up inside..

love it all you can
here is the phenomena
just this..

you must've consumed what propels
wonders to the unfortunate
who turn away and feel far behind
undecided
all alone
and eyelids closed.
this bland turmoil, this thing of beauty
not only
does it reincarnate to the self death,
it is reassuring;

that probably hapiness
is beyond and defined
only in these succeeding moments
without control,
without body,
and with contour..

now that im writing,
its all quite untrivial
i should've thought of
something else,
oh but that beer
and damn that joint;
tapos kain tangina,
it purifies your senseless
and premature providence.

dowsing
my intimate hobby in wasting time.
let this not be often,
it is a humble blessing
from something else.

forever.

how is it that life seems so submitting?
that in words that reddem
benefits only but your own self..
with thoughts that mind
only the ones with providence
as with religion who speaks volumes
in a damned sake of a blessed manifestation;
the television
i love it with vigor;

and with it i sleep
and forsee
beyong my own means to an end
and my honesty.

i see comic books and magazines
as literature;

i am broke.
my ex-girlfriend who i am trying to get back to
treats me like i am fuckin' nobody..
a potential of redemption is lost in april
because of circumstances she succumbs...
i found a timid and subtle resolution
to my undying passion for work....
guess what?!
(it took me 5 beers to do that)
my nation
and wherever it maybe lost,
finds its way towards my happiness abstract,
be glorified for the meek
who seek ignorance as an effort lackey
in her loving emrbace.

why did i come home?
when i all i see is the same as i came back first,
but my love,
wherever you maybe:

i am a man
and god help me..
just maybe
i think
i dont know what else to do
but i am doing it
whatever it is..

and yet i write
and i am unsober
i bleed and pray i am worthy,
i have marijuana by my side.
in the humble prescsence of waste
i close my eyes and think i lack of sleep,
and its dream i encounter
i have found the perfect absolute:
a drug in her arms,
in it's form so sacred it is named
a sleeping pill called stillnox

(submission here and so forth)

i take twenty
i remember it is ash wednesday,.
moments then i feel,
i remember how it is unending;
i see salvation

never it be bittersweet!

but a kiss to end all kisses...
and a goodbye to say in accordance
for a "hello!" to remember
that would last a lifetime.
my lifetime