"This place is curious, this place is a non place. It’s not located in some secret corner of the soul, since there are no secrets; it’s actually devouring the entire inside, projecting itself on the outside… gaining substance, encouraging stings, thirst and hunger all around."
- Natura Principia
I’ve, kind of always, had a perfectly
balanced idea that cause inexorably leads to an effect. I’m well aware of
causality, paradoxes of consequences… and indeed, I’ve also known of high moral
ground, what it represents, how it affects destiny. There has been
understanding about well tuned chain of thoughts, and how thought influences
actions. And beneath all of this, deep in the limbo laid a complete conscience,
overwhelmed with high emotional intelligence…
A long time ago I’ve made my choices to
live a life purified from braces of control and external influences, fully exiled
into true freedoms and liberties of human existence. Most of the time my ways
were not guided by higher norms of morality, by bifurcations of causality, or
by calculated chain of thoughts and actions. Curiosity has shown me that there
are no roads out there, only racetracks. In many times this has lead me to sense
the darkest depths of despair and sharp pain. Despite that, I am overwhelmed
with happiness all these years. Thus I’ve created an environment that has been
transformed as a consequence of what I am. In these excommunicated ways I have
found myself and my true worth. You see, the all or nothing days are never ending,
they just transform in an occult manner with growth of perception, with rise of
There’s a constant presence, an outside
body nested firmly where I’m supposed to exist… here, in the calmness of the
depth where I’m created. Her world, subtle and unique, tender and soft, romantic
in its core, brutally real in the connection with mine. She’s a chunk of my
worth, physically attached to my body carried in my making, with every step I take,
in every word I make. Even in the blue of my eyes, she’s there… and this lasts for
years by now, when most inhales carry her name.
And I’m that fool who fails to think of,
but I don’t need to… in parts, I’m her.
Creative energy is exploding all around,
building fresh worlds in the appearances of the one we already live in, changing
all inconsistencies in a spectacular manner, they become irreversible. In this
spectacle of living, in this bifurcation knot, whatever happens never happened
before. Results are overwhelming in all directions, they impose incredible
pace. It’s unclear to me how constant growth of my reality is accomplished. I
guess I’m a diligent perpetrator, a thorough giver, a dedicated alchemist
altering reality on a large scale… I don’t know, but I’m not going to waste a
single second trying to understand what led to this or where it’s going to take
me, I’m simply going to enjoy the hell out of it.
This time I achieve flight… again… much
higher than before!
In such uncanny state, I spy with my
blue eye… everything in sight!
This city lives in pollution, nice and
thick, it blocks everything in sight; and all dark alleys fucked up with graffiti
on the walls become the centre of all centres, testing our yearn for vices,
this craving we have to do some more sin... and what happens there, stays
there, protected and secure in the conscience of the city. Not in ours, we don’t
have it anymore… conscience…
These fumes, they’re created from our disappointments,
and they grow vast further out in time. We have no idea where we’ve been, and
we hardly give a decent fuck where we’re going. In this jungle where everything
is erased but the exaltation in our need for greed, we’re chased only by
ourselves. Here, in this den, nature met its doom – it found us; here, our
lungs are filled with poisonous air, when our diseases grow in numbers, come, we
got them all.
… remembrance of what we were, even that
is lost. Things we’ve lost are measured in people… in this sad little blue
marble we call home, people are treated like things, accessories.
… and I am that Corto, incorrigible romantic, who still feels happiness beyond
description to my heart from our strength in numbers… the only baggage that I carry
is the gold of my faith in love, so I love some more.
Hopes gather, they vibrate surrounding
me with their signals for instant karma; arriving from my north, merging
themselves quite elegantly with the freedom in my dreams… so that I can have
options once more, fresh fortune in another autumn of my saga.
Way too many structural reforms of my
soul tissue have already invited themselves in, in an age when soul poverty is
extinct and long forgotten. Changes reshaping me on a cellular base, I can feel
those added chromosomes to the niche, enriching me. All those thirsty fiends
inside me roaring in restlessness for this new age, my age of plenty… when I have
options once more, in another colorful autumn of my saga.
And into the core of all these
sensations lies a true woman, safe and secure, protected with my substance of
life; giving me purpose, defining me… when my options are firmly situated within her, when
our freedoms merge in this state of two… in another autumn of our saga.
All this thirst for your beauty inside
me, alluring in its core, so compelling, beckoning, chasing me… so I follow my
instinct and release myself to your calling; I am your possession to have, willingly.
My water, my savage queen, warrior woman, my Valkyrie – nothing ever compares to you!
And when I try to take a deep breath, you’re
that burning sensation filling my lungs with hot air, so that I can never have
enough of you. In each moment succeeding, I’m becoming even more addicted to
you, and this lasts, forevermore – only to mark the beginning of this
Anthropocene, like you mark my flesh with your fires and furies.
Enwrapped in such passion, I’m obsessed
with your occult lust… so I bite back!
With a freshness of a mountain spring I quiver
finding the path to my secret sea. In this everlasting breakthrough against elements
of nature, my fireplace is closer and closer, and all those worlds beyond…
Suns extinguished so that new ones could
be created from ancient sparks, lives passed by only to feel another rebirth… but
the dreams for the woman never appeased, they roared fiercely in the depths of
my untamed core, forevermore.
The ember was inflaming when the thrill
of the hunt gained only in strength. In that ancient struggle, identical for
every new generation, whispers echoed on the inside that I’m getting closer and
closer in my search for my female equivalent.
And here comes this dream for a smile
that returns all specters of light in my eyes. This look which awakens shady
reveries from the past. A touch that restructures my build in a calm embrace, as
a port offering home for all my wrecks of ships… when her kiss renews all
freedoms of my soul.
And I’m recreated there, skin on skin, from
centres of the brain all the way until edges of my fingertips. This electric
current hurling through my cell structure carries her name, so that this skin I
live in is her undoubted dominion, undenied.
In this most desired comfort, when I breathe what she breathes, I’m happy
at last… only because she sleeps there with me:*
Your tender loving eyes release my pain inside,
all those whole desires left undone, yet belonging to you, totally. Years changed
and transformed into new seasons, when time lost its meaning, for you mark an
age in this bare destiny of mine, and I can never hide – never from you. Times never
pass, they grow into something else and my desire to belong gets only stronger,
you’ve changed me by making me so much more. You’ve stamped the right side of
the heart, nested yourself there ruining me for other women. Even this world
has changed in my attempt to divide myself into two, so that a part of me will
never be missed over there in your brave new world, in that new place you call
home, in that bed where you knit your dreams from that soft essence you’re made
of; and that other part of me stays here in my naked existence, dormant in a
dreamless state, all those dreams stolen with your tender affection… I can
never again dream without you.
In the soul centre of my wicked
intentions there are derelicts of my broken psyche, eyes without a face… rapid tendencies
granting me lapse of memory, seduction in forgetfulness; and this is not
because I’m absent minded, I’m just easily distracted by abstractions of my
objective reality, when most of them never wear any panties. It’s my own fault
that I can be seduced and left beyond repair… then again, I need no corrections,
I’m already guilty enough, I’ve crossed all lines of soul maintenance… to be
more precise, if the apparent line is here, where I sit at this very moment, I’m
somewhere safe, far south of the border, some place nice in sunny Mexico.
All these infidelities gather and nest
in the simplicities of the complexity which I represent, so that I can be left
lost in my own ignorance, only to stand sharp for even more betrayals; and this
is not because I lack loyalty and sense of belonging. It’s my own fault that I can
be easily confused and left amazed in a temporary astonishment for every two
legged personal hell which crosses my route to nowhere, wearing heels and looking just great in a light summer dress.
I should be tortured by these mixed
emotions, by my contradictions in appearances. A sensible human being would say
that I should’ve learned something, but all I’ve learned from these derelicts
of my broken psyche is only to respect that dark part of me… eyes without a
Tomorrow never comes until it’s too
late, all mistakes are already expedited into full reality. And this madness
rules the deviant residue of thoughts as a consequence of this moral
corruption, a madness that can never be undone. In the heat of the summer, jacked
affection for living remains, twisted as it is, perverted to the bone, only
another form of stability.
Years by now mark this living on the
edge, occult dancer maintaining steady balance on the steep ridge of life,
choosing willingly insomnia that also can’t be undone. Because days are way too
bright, and nights are only short for what needs to be done. Actions have
erased any trace of lines, and what lies ahead can’t be taken into account,
nothing is predictable anymore, it beckons… all awaits undreamed.
In the forgotten need for silence of my