Are you going to tell me a secret now?

 I woke up early, awaken from a dream only to soar into another. Maybe it wasn’t a dream, maybe it was your voice, your scent. Are you going to tell me a secret now?

I woke up early, new day with you. I know I was torn, I know I was broken, I know I saw black rock in my eye. Do you think you can save me now?

I woke up early, I stood naked above the world in my high hide. I was focused on the far east, where the sun rises. I felt reborn out of flames. Are you going to give me a new name now? 

I woke up early, from a warm bed with you in it. I felt a soul wanting me. I saw your naked offering, it was unconditional. Are you going to tell me a secret now?

 

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…

Summer sting

Periodic beats measuring motion, quaking sensations violate structures fucked up with graffiti on the walls, testing them. The beat is the source, an overwhelming white noise; twisted omen for living in sin, at least for a while longer… when in summer!

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. Surprising need, welcome as flames of hell;) 

Demented condition, not waiting patiently as the prey does, but hunting as famished predators do… hunting for you;)

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.