Fires of myself

I decide to be, so I look at marvels of life with exaltation. Fully prepared to uncover my dream I reach deep into the heart, and with unknown forces that I find there, I shake the ground beneath my feet.

There’s an end of a day… when thoughts become clear, when feelings are only bright, when dreams are back. A desire from the core, so close and so familiar to me, carried within through countless dreams, through endless corridors of hallucinations. Those loving charms consisting a personality, an identity. Lust for life with beginnings long forgotten and a truth which thrives in the fires of myself. 

And every single moment of this life, looks exactly like falling in love!

Counting time

I can draw you in my desires, lying naked side by side. The breath you take coming from me, so I allow. My infernal intention is not control over you, but in this polluted mind of mine I need to twist and twirl you, any way I see fit, body and soul. And you deliberately allow, and take me in. I know that you’re mine, I foretold it in my dreams, I see it with my eyes, I feel it in my bones – me, the sultan of you;)

This morning, like any other morning, is born on your skin, tender within tender as it is. Your heart, the clock of my world, so I start to count time;) 

And my world and this heart of mine are hardly mine anymore, this skin I live in does no longer belong to me… it’s all yours, my woman for thousands of lives to come, undisputed sovereign of my everything… everything, I mean everything is yours, until the very last drop;)

Alchemy of the heart

Slowly browsing through the modulations of my radio, carefully listening in an attempt to decipher the static. Receiving indistinctive sounds, inconclusive in their chaotic vigor; waves upon waves scratching their way to me, dissolved into the air. Dialect of a mystical ancient madness forever forgotten in some naive past, long before we realized the concept of mixing tenses. Form of speech from a thirsty silhouette, located nowhere, existing out of time; sending me message in a bottle, a silent secret of some sort, secret told to no one, never heard by anyone. Region full only with truth beyond intellect, an essence of every religion invented by man, metaphysical axiom of existence… pursue of every true alchemist of the heart! 

Now I know that thought is no longer a thought, because it’s transformed into a feeling, deeper urge…

Woman

Every verse, ever written is designed to admire woman’s beauty. Every single feeling, ever felt finds root in a woman’s heart. Every scent, ever imagined, comes from a woman. Everything that is said, even that which lays in the future, completely undreamed, is in a dream of a woman. Every creation ever made, even this entire world has a woman in the middle of it. Every single breath, ever taken is given by a woman. The reason for blossom is not spring, but the smile of a woman. That enchanting force, which holds all cells together, is the love of a woman. Mercy and grace are born in the look of a woman.

Heart of a man is but a nest for a woman’s world; in there a woman claims dominion, even before the sun itself.

We, men, live for a single purpose…

Twenty Tens

Deep distant echoes of my voice murmuring gibberish, advising me for something of high significance, something that I find equally pointless. The full satisfaction of not knowing, and the curiosity of taking another path, just because I can, a path more secret and less known.

The poets of old sing in their long forgotten faith for showers of beauty and grace found only in perfection, divinity and what’s known; but I’m not after innocence and nobility, romantic notions of hope. It’s the twenty tens, and hope has forsaken all lands in this world. In this youth, we chase for imperfection, through mistakes and sins we strive to learn and become more.

It’s difficult to accept that life operates outside order, because that way the Lord’s free will and his almighty power would be disrupted, God would have no meaning in a chaotic universe. And his freedom intended for us is our condemnation, a prison of the heart bricked from even more gibberish. 

So, I choose to be subversive and move like an ocean current. In my occult heathen excommunicated ways I aim to reach our true selves, my heresy is toward any cage attempting to free us from choice. Not to waste resources on hope, but to create and improve overall alchemy of life.