Cursed flowers.
Wicked flowers.
Dead flowers:
Sad dew tears that dye black my delirious existence.
Common places.
New moon for everyone.
Let the wind blow!
Non-inclusive language that excludes myself.
Cursed and blessed the hour
in which
i tasted the virtues of your inclement treasures.
Acid rain.
Storms and hurricanes on the cliffs of your body.
There’s a narrow
and wild road
until i reach your snowy mountain.
I don’t know how I got to…
Television.
Telekinesis and holograms.
Is this,
the glorious moment
in which
you bless me with the syrup your forbidden fruit.
Torrent of life.
Light and dark at the same full time.
I wish this moment was an eternal loop of moments:
Flash back
or dejavu.
Start over inside of you before I died
(drowned)
by the white milk of the full moon.
Delve into your entrails.
Anarchic squat who seeks your approval
to perpetuate my stay
In the darkest depths of your secrets.
Screams torn by muffled moans.
Delirium
Delicicies as treasures.
Precious stones that smell of orgasms with compulsive delay.
Earth tremors.
Who am to colonize your cursed geography?
Brave adventurer.
Mono neuron usurping despot,
monkey feeling.
Monkey wish.
Or simply
the deluded voyeur who eats you with his eyes
and watches you wanting to devour you dressed.
Silence In the cold of cyber distance.
Delirium
I just want your kisses.
I just want to touch you in dreams.
Lick you with the lyrics
and penetrate you with ideas
in fractals and trails of light dissolved in my verses.
They are just single words victims
of delirium.
Sinister utopia of sin in chain. Do we treat ourselves?