Ascribing meaning to nothing is an illusion upon which the world is built

Anything or anyone can be remarkable

You can strip people or places of their importance just as easily as you bestow it

The trail is hard to follow because when it dissipates, there is no dust

No footprints

Everyone is lying about themselves to a degree, but not on purpose. It is potentially harmful and possibly wonderful.

Escape the clutches of regret

Neglect your crutches, fall hard

Headfirst into danger, this world’s own work of art

Reach a contradiction

It’s not so incredible to want something rare, almost invisible

Seeing is a choice

Nem posso acreditar que aconteceu
De verdade
Dentro do seu ponto de vista
Há uma maneira
De alterar as frases que deforma
Completamente o significado original das mesmas
Dentro
Do seu ponto de vista

A dark night is not dulled by daylight

It just waits until it’s time

To strike as if in pantomime

As sharp knives swoop into raw life

The shadows storm in, celebrating

Blood trickles down to tint their lips

Inebriating, rabid sips

Intoxicate nocturnal minds

Now searing light no longer blinds

Their heavy eyes adjust and stare

At the spot where the sun sat bare

Replaced by a modest moon

Who knows all will be over soon

She meddles not in their affairs

Just watches as they put on airs

To make the night last very long

The shadows hum a classic song

A tale of total abandon

Every single hand in tandem

Dark rows of fingers interlaced

Blur together with quickened pace

For the eternal performance

Filled with tragedy and romance

The shadows stoop to a new depth

Dancing along to their own death

My whole life’s disorganised

But I know where everything is

Nothing takes me by surprise

From upside down the crucifix

I find it hard to leave this place

Even though the rope is worn

I haven’t learned from my mistakes

And by now my hope is wan

Tomorrow is a distant past

I no longer fantasize

It all goes down the drain so fast

My whole life’s a compromise

A plastic girl, head to toe

Bearing the absence of guilt

Harmless doll who had no choice

She’ll still be here when we go

She won’t be debased by death

She came out of the sea

the day the earth gasped its last breath

A welled up heart in a tight chest

Beating heavy to no drum

Palms outward

as if fending off an attack

But she’s just dancing

I first saw her in a passport photo, another lost document. I pictured her and wondered where she might have lost it, where she was last seen.

Her background swirls around her, shifting, like her features. There’s nothing else to know for now. I try to find her with my mind.

I’m the only one waiting in the hall. The elevator never comes down. The stairs are endless, dark and damp. Looking out the window, I see a morning stopped in time. Cold, silent and heavy. The light blinks, shivers come in waves.

I saw her for the second time tonight. She walked past me on her way out. I wondered which floor she was in as I went up the stairs. Thought I heard faint conversation. The former guests never fully faded. They’re all around us.

She’s walked through a few continents. Now, her legs are most likely in a lab. I wonder how many times she’s been catalogued, and hope the last time will be dignified.

She’s here again.

I’m never fast enough to see her when I turn around, but I feel her behind me every once in a while.

I’ve tried to catch her in the reflection. Her haunting helplessness taunts me, another spectator. We can’t watch over each other anymore.

If I saw her once I’ve seen them all, the distinct women who share the same fate.

I fill in the blanks and prepare to fire them.

Even though she’s behind me, I know I’m after her in line.

I can’t get my hands on fingers
Or wrap my head around them
Although touching is beneath us
It’s just curious to me
How they transmit energy
If I can’t harness my own power
I would render myself useless
And brand myself a coward

Before I became an experiment
I gave away my very best
To join debris and deep-sea sediment
Indistinguishable from the rest

Now I don’t walk, I drag my feet
The seamless steps are hard to count
Though I am technically deceased
I still lug this body around

At least I can still use my fists
To strike until I break the casket
The slightest bit of soul exists
It smells like death, too late to mask it

I recognize the biggest issue
There is no pulse, no living tissue
Mine are the hands that pull me down
That hold me back and let me drown

A slow process: I’ve decomposed
Guess it’s too late to be revived
The nerve! Exposed
If only I had realized