P̵̩̀͒R̸͈͙̊Ḭ̶̚M̵̯̈̈A̸͖̳͂̆V̵͔̆Ẹ̷̟͐R̷̝̈́A̸͚̯͘L̴̤̄̔ ̷̮͔͂C̷̻̚͠O̴̙̩̓N̴̻̒G̸̜͐E̴̼̔L̷̼̠̐̅A̵̰͠D̶̨̗̓̐O̷͙̎̇

 

 

 ¡Desempolvemos!

Las ascuas calcinadas

 

de un

idioma abandonado

 

en su sepa,

por su ausencia,

 

y quién sepa

lo que venga

 

más allá...

 

De una estrofa,

 

sedienta en lo profano. 

 

An hour,

 

of fortunes

 

yet be told,

 

and bold

 

to attain

 

the taste,

 

a strout of preposterous

 

perceptions.

 

 

And resolve.

 

My misconceptions.

I shall

answer

my questions, que enarden,

 

y en ellas

 

arden...

tus artes,

 

¡Qué resalten!

 

 

Y Alzen.

 

Hacia el más allá

 

Los Andes

 

donde fui

 

leche de un río en su

 

cementerio

 

hecho riachuelo.

 

Infects the mind

 

with extraneous

 

sounds;

 

they burn a scar,

 

as it draws

 

my frequencies (with chance),

 

 

near.

 

My 

 

possibilities of

 

encuentros dulces,

 

en tanto se tornan

 

amargos,

 

cuando se beben

 

from a bitter

 

taste

 

that reaches...

 

 

Mi aventura

 

ya encomienda,

 

y comienzas:

 

why you bite off the head

 

of my only

 

umbrella?

 

 

Ese que enaltece,

 

y resguarda...

 

 

Las sombras

 

como un

Espíritu Inconsciente.

 

 

La mancha

 

es un recuerdo sin

 

testamento.

 

 

Una memoria, de su tacto ya pasando,

 

en la parcela, tu regazo

 

ya no es mi caso,

and lost

 

to touches

 

from afar,

 

another phoenix

 

shaped horizon...

Shall retake

 

 

The Stars

A brazen fire

 

molds the space

 

into sauces that splatter open

 

current faces

 

of infinity,

 

and skulls

 

that pierce beyond

 

the gaze of a thunder

 

dissected

into tendrils of its wright,

and its weight...

shall infect

us

 

again.

As new energies

 

collide

in between the friction

of the fire,

a new type of sentient

 

matter

 

will surrender

 

all dilemas

 

for The Void

to handle.

Y Al Abismo

caído,

we shall teach

our far out

futures.

 

Mientras yo

me encapsulo

en la fragancia

de una serie de recuerdos.

 

Tuyo, es mi mundo,

in which I'll always

 

bleed...

new theories of bliss.

 

And I'd bless

this mess.

As Chaos

 

emerges,

my aura

 

asciende

hacia planos más

intrépidos,

for as Force will never

replace

Common.

Sense.

 

Come on

Ven.

Ya es la hora...

 

Of Apotheosis

En Plethora.

To converge...

It's time finally to

ver al mismo cielo

   GRITANDO  MIS  ESTROFAS   

Slowed & Reverb

 

One bridge.

 

Two bridges.

 

Three bridges

D

own

...

 

The town's cries

 

emerge unto

 

laughter,

 

as it sets

a new motion

to evolve.

And, above,

the static's feeling

alive, as well,

while maintaining

the same chances

to escape.

Perchance...

Into daydreams I

aspire

to ascend.

Its constant

reminder

of all things that go.

we'll let go...

Of old memories

to hold.

All the fragments,

on a fragile

threshold

to perform.

Maybe

it's yet another

scrawny attempt

to hit Goliath

on the fumble

of his dilated

skull...

As David swings

yet a further

stone, to rile up

the masses

to enclasp.

A new set of

wunderkind

tales.

As they tail

the New Culprit

to enclose...

The hatred that flows

beneath us

never allows

for oxygen

to bolt

along the pastures

of all continental

veins.

And the rain...

 will swallow us

all.

For new sets of flowers

to grow.

And the magma will flow...

As the sky turns again

to a divine hue

of purple chaos blue.

Red crimson too, dies...

As a golden sun

arises...

Done with the pretenses

The Dragon.

Fires up

the stove.

As She

Brings about

The gorgeous end

For all mortal things to throb.

THE PYRAMID

SEES US ALL

YELLING INTO

DIFFERENT VOIDS

WHAT WILL HAPPEN NOW

THAT THE MASKS HAVE BURNED

OFF THE CORNERS

OF THE LONELIEST

GLOBE

PERHAPS ONE MORE

TRY...

This time...

We'll make sure.

To aim for the right eye.

As the left one cries more shadows...

Into a pillow

made of stone.

The final attempt.

To resucitate.

A world that finally

Smiles back

The Hug.

A warm embrace.

For us all

to draw.

Second Season

 

 

Gaillard missions

 

travels

 

from afar,

 

on the surface of a

 

dilated horizon

 

shaped parasol,

 

floating carelessly

 

inside the buoyant nature

 

of grandeur-

The Cosmic Ventures...

What can you tell me

of the marvels

of Beyond.

A maniac episode

of the shadows

rising above bright red coals,

a coral reef

 

of burned promises,

 

over the same set of flames

 

that stumbled upon

 

our bridges down

 

to the ground...

 

 

An itchy scratch

 

that never forgets

 

to come back.

 

 

That pasteurized

 

version of ourselves,

now

cauterized

 

and re-colourized

due to exposure

and allure

of falling in reverse

through the membrane

of   The Day.

A simple one that takes

two times a same

chance to make the thrice

 

 

goodbye

 (for now)

keep your secrets

folded unto

 

velvets

of themselves.

It's always

 

the spiders

 

crawling

 

inside the floor,

 

through the corners of

 

 

the skin

 

 akin

 

to juxtaposed

 

little pamphlets,

 

to distribute

 

 

THE GOOD WORD

 

 

of gore...?

 

 And foretold

 

it's that he's up

 

and becoming

 

 

The Array.

 

 

He arises, through the mud.

 

 

As He claws

 

away the clay

 

that buried Him

 

so many Eons

 

before

 

the tongues begun

 

to speak.

 

 

 And pissed

 

off they go

 

where the Bodies

 

foam the shore,

 

in the Sky-blue Frontier

 

embalmed;

 

make some mummies

 

made from shards...

 

 

I will get

 

to see

a rising shine

once I'm done

through with your

 

sense of

 

pride shaped shambles.

It's conspicuous

to believe

 

in unbranded

fairy tales

or formerly knowings,

cobwebs of surrounding

 

undergrounds

ongoing

the good fortunes

of The Stones.

The Flames, will tell the song.

The Ocean shall calm its mighty shores.

The Universe... will eventually retake its glorious toll.

And so, we'll all forgo, The Cosmos, as current adventures to unfold.

 

 

 

Brand new chapters.

 

 

For us to trot... 

 

 

.The Void Grenade. - ''A minute into seconds while all sounds melt.''

 

 

Fumble up a ton

 

of space

 

based on an

 

intricate principle,

 

templates made to be 

 

shared;

 

around the globe is where

 

I set visions

 

to conquer

 

greater heights to gaze,

 

while waiting up my front

 

for a new standard

 

definition

 

of a sweet supple tuition.

 

 A duple that quadruples

its value,

 

as it dapples

its spin of the balloon

 

where

we float.

 

 

Stars that start

 

to fall from grace into

new shows

 

to perceive;

they take us

as they pet ash

that once were flames

arousing

the songs of the flow

itself.

 

 

While He mirrors

The present

 

when I present

a never-ending

 

parade:

 

Charade,

a Cosmic Grenade,

turn into raisins shaped

carousels:

 

together

 

forms a pearl

 

that shines so feral

 

when

 

looked at.

 

 

Too much.

 

 

Is a mask which repels

 

my intentions with you and

 

the rest of the air

 

 

in between

 

 

our eyes locked

 

as the smoke showers

 

 

in betwixt.

 

 

'Tis a night to remember

 

by,

 

bye-bye.

 

 

Bypass

 

my barriers as I put

 

some more

 

concrete to fill

 

all the cracks

 

beneath.

 

 

And make me lose

 

the air

 

that

 

escapes:

 

 

it's a better

 

 Story

 

So, if you please 

 

Do Tell.

  

I think 

it's time

to

        fall

again

 

 

 

.

 

.

 

.

Similar Face. Different Soul. Same Love.

 

 

A sudden

strike

 

of electricity

unravels.

As Destiny,

 

unfolding,

in the same pattern

 

in which

 

we lock gazes

across an evaporated

 

plane.

.

.

.

Your frequency's

 

as soft as

silken breezes

from afar;

 

but as tall tales go

 

never mind

 

the spores

 

of your crazy touch.

 

I still refer to you

 

as something

to adore.

 

 

And to try to

 

pursue

 

even though

 

the lessons

 

from

 

the still palpable,

 

renew,

 

a vision from the past

 

yet to cure, 

 

 

vivid from

 

 

the texture

 

of My Scars.

It's something ravenous

to fall

 

into something beautiful

 

To Feel.

 

 

In the same sense

 

 as Reality keeps

 

unfolding

 

as You Breathe,

 

 

(my nose touching your hair as you silently shriek) 

 

 

never minding

 

my gaze

 

upon the side eye

 

of Your Heart,

 

beating in the same rhythm

 

as desire

 

unfolding upon

 

The Realm.

 

Of us,

 

in front

 

of the palpable

World.

 

around us

 

Telling me your secrets

 

yet to unfold.

  

 

Without the need

 

to spoke

 

a single

 

word.

 

 

And even though

I know

 

your fingers are too shy

 

 

to tell.

Me

and You.

 

 

The forbidden knowledge,

 

of an ocean space,

 

since the waves are bubbling,

 

into a sudden song

 

 

of chaos

 

and melancholy

 

combined;

 

 

 into a shared

 

Universe

 

brazing,

I will get

to conquer

my own fires

and remorse;

to pursue a happier

sense decor

 

of my soul

 

 

You will work.

 

 

As a pearl so shiny

 

I'll want to polish you

 

Much more.

 

 

And all the forbidden pleasure...

 

 

Couldn't keep me

 

from spelling

 

 

your name

 

 

 unto the flames

from which

I form

 

My Dreams.

 

And my demise

 

upon the attraction

 

that Saturn meets

 

when the eyes come close

 

 

To Feel.

 

 

What The Fire

 

 

underneath

 

 

dares to cheer,

 

in the same time

 

as the bubbles

 

care to share

 

their secrets

 

to the public around

 

our ceremony

Of Rebirth.

It's always

The Chaos

underneath.

The Reason

 

I'd choose to chase you

across

The Endless Sea.

And the reason I still chase you

with Your New Face

it's decided

 

to show yourself

to me.

You were My First.

Maybe You'll be My Last...

 

Who knows?

What The Script will bring.

When You finally decide

 

 

 

 

To Come Back To Me...

  

Heating up a Glass Sphere until It breaks

 

 

Crimson lays

 

a fang across

 

The Halls...

 

as they get

 

tinted

 

with hues of

 

the bones crackling

 

above a mighty

 

 

Fire.

 

 

Sensations of

 

dagger

 

under the skin

 

as the metal

 

gets to burn

 

nicely.

 

 

Eyes wide open

 

and gazing

 

while interpreting

 

the same

 

song and dance,

 

as before

 

and today.

 

 

It's the sane DNA

 

of success

 

to know how

 

to put

 

the fingers

 

upon The Beacon

 

when It calls.

 

 

A mark

 

of worship

 

between

 

brethren;

 

is a parallel,

 

as brother

 

kills brother

 

under the rain...

 

 

And The Stone

 

keeps crumbling

 

from all the

 

sand

 

cursing

 

through its ancient

 

veins...

It's the Earth's

Birthday

and never before

have we ever

listened to its

Prayers.

What it takes...

 

 

To see the sun

 

once again

 

showering us with

 

Life

 

instead of

 

Pain.

 

 

As she

 

evaporates,

 

she becomes

 

lighter than the air.

 

That escapes

 

Her breaths

 

lost unto the breeze...

 

 

And the ice will never

come back

 

for us.

For our book has been written

by hard-headed

silhouettes.

 

 

Reincarnated

 

into puppets

 

made to make

 

Machiavellian feelings

 

turn to Evil,

 

into Flesh...

 

 

And now.

The Champagne tastes

 

as dirty

as our

 

Last

Serenade

And embedded

are our dreams

into the future faces

yet to come...

Maybe, they'll get to see the day.

Maybe, they'll get to love the night.

Maybe, it will all go for the better.

Maybe... They'll leave us for good.

 

.

.

.

 

Suerte menospreciada

 

 tirada a su Suerte

 

Muerta sin azar...

 

 

WHERE The Paths COLLIDE

An echo chamber

dissipates,

as the atmosphere around it

crumbles

under its own.

Weight,

of the shoulders, it goes

as scarfs that roleplay

as constrictor snakes

flowing

from a,

seemingly

empty

barrage

of space.

That fits

under the rugs

of a Universe,

sheltered

by the presence

of rainy veins.

But not as rainy as

a

sunny day.

In the city where

the weather

never decides

a personality

to stay

impersonated

as a brand-new

conscience.

As matters of trivial

assumptions

go,

they're encapsulated

as they're made,

into oblivions

fabricated

from their own

funny glare.

Of opportunities.

As a new chance arises

while everything else

b  re  a k   s .

The beak of

The Observatory

from where

my nose guides my eyesight

to its final

nest,

upon the stars;

we'll start

to lay

our grounds beneath

the dirt under our feet,

as we gallop across

an empty canvas

for a better world.

A lonesome place

to bare my face

Under the neck.

as Reality crushes

as our fingers

Rein.

Is a non-stop

Hurricane

Locomotive

where color

meets sounds

as they

taste...

The mellow melody

of asunder

a thunder

of ricochet;

microscopic transactions

from whence,

the middle, where it breaks,

as probabilities

enlighten us

under our

polished ways.

It's cultivated,

refrigerated

and

regurgitated,

every time It spins

as

THE WHOLE

melts

into tiny

p

a

r

t

i

c

l

e

s

dimensions

of colour

as everyone else

mends

their choices

from

a tainted place

to a

Sacred Stone

for   each 

  to

call

their  own

                            To  Rest . . . 

Kaleidoscope Contact Glass

 

 

Energy

canalizing,

synergizing,

entering a whole new plane!

From tormented shards,

to fractured particles.

A new substance arises

and shifts

the swiftness within,

with which

a heartbeat loses track

of same rhythms

as itself.

It's a currency,

prevalent,

ever to be said,

that trying is the same

as failing in reverse.

But success shall not.

Be,

falling

for whatever it's needed

to the utmost

outward of the truest

shapes of all:

It's the same mask,

We've all seen before.

Let it out to dry,

out the

daily sweats,

on a lonely rack,

for someone

calmer

to find.

Out,

post

our destiny

on shattered glass walls.

After all,

fighting a never fully

sealed wallet

of aspirations

and young cries

of a generation.

It's one fractured

goal,

and it will

fracture

your.

World

of ours.

 

Into pieces,

it shall rein,

everyone's odorless

domains.

Nevertheless,

always remember

to patch things up

before leaving up

the bench

for good.

It's the life

of a chance

compressed as

 

realities fit

into a dynamic

Crystal Marble.

A song that ever carries out

these premonitions,

and its ambitions,

for when

the sun reaches.

His final breaths.

Another try

to replicate...

Some specific garden

we've always known

 

to care.

 

About what

we wanted

to create.

Over again.

Portrayed in dark-tinted 

 

lenses

that only braver souls

can melt.