live in frames

Feeling detached from reality opens the golden gates of a new realm based on travelings from your bed to the bathroom, a close up to a cigar while the image sweeps away to a close window, behind which a world is thought to be waiting for you but it goes on and on in perpetuity though.

Open frame to a train station where people come and go, cross without uttering a word and those who open their mouth seem numb, lacking in any ability to interact deeply and are captured in backlighting reverse angle.

Extreme long shots of lives that can't get into details as they are so superficial an extreme close up would show how meaningless they are to anyone but themselves and they fade without leaving any imprint. They wish they were at least supporting actors in the plot of your life but nothing but background is what they become.

Split screens where some scenes are shown in slow motion as others appear to be static shots because the script is unwritten and they lost their lines too long ago trying to be who the audience expects them to, with ridiculous expectations to be awarded for a role that wasn't meant to be performed by them and, in the edditing they got nothing but becoming extra features.

Now is your time...LIGHT, ROLL CAMERA, ACTION. Let me see your point of view.

GAME (v-s- -ges o-f r- -n-)

No excuses anymore,
The truth has been perverted
to a game played in a chess
Where the pieces have died
For too long.
Who's the Bishop in the board?
While the pawns fall time after time,
Archbishops spread their word
Concubines of death
Fiances of despair
Sketch a smile on their face.
Crawl in the darkness,
Smile with borrowed anger
Slap the disguise of an “ego”,
Ghastly reflections in the mirror
Feeling loneliness in all this nonsense
Filling emptiness with indifference
Feeling gaps, filling eyes
with the tears I can’t cry.

Alternative points of view

I'll edit what eyes never captured,
write down words nobody said,
create sets that were only shadows,
share what once was only in my brain.

She'll dirt her fingers in the process
of creating what only paint can show,
nightmares, dreams and reality gathered
giving live to a fake oniric world.

Then, we will let ourselves go
the white screen will burn,
the paints will mix and turn,
and so, the rules of real will drown.

Turn Left

The times were thought to be a changing, well, they changed for worst. The revolutions in whispers were so quiet that nobody paid attention. Thomas Moore got behaded, Tom Joad did'nt find his way to California, the 70's were diluted in LSD, the 90's gave birth to a consumer generation that makes the 80's look like the 30's. Being brainwashed seems trendy while commitment is labled as utopian.

There are so many broken dreams along history that one minute silence is the best tribute we could pay.

Inner landscape

The house is freezing, it feels like the pasta has been in the fridge forever, there may be a snowstorm somewhere but not here, the clouds have imprisoned any sunbeam from reaching us while the bureau of immigration and customs enforcement couldn't stop birds from migrating despite they forced a two month delay.

Human breath could move a steam engine today and it's making it hard to tell when someone is just smoking. Nevertheless, I wish the river froze, tap water got stuck, children stayed home facing a free day due to a whim, sudden impulse, of Cailleach Béirre. It won't though.

Frozen as your frozen lips this morning, I reached my boiling point.

Affliction

Sinking in a sea swallowing us
standing in a surface where we stand
alone, everything is blown
blown away by the wind of their minds.
They hear voices in their head,
You can see an amorphous face.

Feel their loneliness
in all this nonsense
Fill their emptiness
with our difference
Feel their gaps
Fill their eyes
with the tears
they can’t cry

I crawl in the darkness
smile with borrowed anger
slap the face of an “ego”
an unmasked you in the mirror
Their normality is just a stream
of ever flowing irreality
their insanity just lies in the sand
of a world which has driven them mad.

Have you ever tried to walk on broken glass?
Will we ever know they're trying to get back?
Back where we never belonged
where they should be despite they're unborn
Back where we can't be alone
and the faces are blank and the eyes are just holes

Blown off

It can make us blank
It can mold us just like clay,
Hold us to the brink,
turn us from the gray.
with her smile and giggle.
she squabbles often
with nothing even remotely real.

We look at the sun till we get blind
searching for some answers we won't find
embracing the darkness to feel safe
hidding our existance from those betrayed
Cracking smiles facing the truth
too many questions in a melting brain
ancient ideas that remain the same
eyes, I lay as I lie, one must sometimes tell a lie

Lost in the shades of gray there’s no black or white
lighting the candless for an endless mourn
our decisions staind our fate
you must not want to see everything

I am a contradition, in its true state.
the ultimate delusion,
You can change my fate
Float it makes me float.
You call me up through fire
out above the clouds
The voice of desire
Sweet on my tongue,
apt seasoning for
all of my moods.
Only you could quench
that peculiar desire,

My last burning cigarette
I walk into the loud lit room
My head feels everywhere
And people run around the fumes

You would be
an essential element
of my daily diet.
And should I ever overdose?
then I would still stand,
heart racing,
eyes bright,
Eventually, like a bulb
burned too bright, I'd go dark