SHIVER
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
all do.
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
carefree joy.
They wear makeup, despite
their true beauty,
ravishing black eye liner, light
purple toned eye
shadow.
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
sacred
ground.
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
spectrum laws.
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
America.
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
shiver.
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