All I had to do was...

 

 

Lamiendo mis heridas constantes.

 

Irónicas, en su hilar distante.

 

Sus ''santas'' formas de sanar.

 

Espectros turbios que ocultar...

 

Tramando rosas al mirar, el corazón:

Hecho un macramé de alambres.

 

Déspota, se vuelve la obscuridad.

 

Estimando mil dolencias más &

 

 

 Jugando cartas sin reparo del azar.

Esperando el día en cuál.

Susceptibles serpientes.

¡Usurpen ya mi sanidad!

Sintiendo la ausencia aún más...

 

 

Austera, entonces, la sentencia.

No queda lugar, para nimiedad emocional.

Al menos, en el verdadero umbral solar.

Ya es hora, legítima, de intentar.

Auspiciar mi propio conflagrar.

Atento siempre, a la textura del recordar.

Llegando lento a las terminales.

Con tal de que me pueda quedar.

 

Así será, el trote de un humano al soñar.

 

Zarpar confiado, hacia donde quiero volar.

 

Aspirando encontrar, girasoles danzando a la mar.

 

Riendo contigo, una vez más.

 

 

Hallowed {B} My Name

 

 

Hey,

 

can you feel it?

 

In your bloods...

 

 

 The blazes

 

now arising,

 

stirring up the pot

and grasping from below.

One darkened statue

rushes, galloping home,

after many attempts

to figure out War.

Won't you try to set yourself?

 

Free as you can.

 

I see myself

 

escaping through the stupidest

 

hidden corners

 

of the mirror.

 

 Wall,

 

after wall,

 

and well cloistered up,

 

I find my shadow, tired,

after catching up your stones,

 

 with the frontal teeth

until they've breached.

And fling then,

 

them chances to throw...

Gather all your pocket curses

 

and behold,

upon the sunset:

 

 

A new kind of

 

Secular Love...

 

 

Maybe this one, too,

 

is made to

 

polish off

 

the corners of a

 

perfect

 

Opal Globe.

 

 

And...

 

Please continue to grow,

 

while It growls.

 

 

But, can you feel it, though…?

 

 

As they fall,

 

now,

 

they uphold

 

their unwanted

 

coronoids.

 

 

As we flex

 

the muscle of

 

The Strangest Soul.

 

 

A tear does tell apart,

 

the riches from the glow.

 

 

It's legitimately

 

all but a pointless show... 

 

Nonetheless,

 

can you teach me, as well?

 

To serenade perfectly,

 

to such lonely

 

marionettes.

 

 

''But, where are the puppeteers...?''

 

 

I scream to myself

 

as I'm changing up

 

the angles,

and the formats,

 

so the brightest tungsten won't

 

erase my eyelids

 

off

 

the lovely

 

borders

 

of my skull.

 

 

There's always another

 

territory scramble

 

over who can take the most

 

flesh from the pit of

 

past tainted choices

 

of formerly.

 

 

Knowings from afar...

 

 

And apart...

 

 

They taught me

 

how to hug

 

the Roses without

 

leaving their husks behind,

 

and burning out

 

the spines

 

as I go.

As they're hearts.

 

That shan't break

 

so easily...

 

 

''We shall see.''

 

 

 Your true colours

 

once they've been taken out

 

by the shimmering gleams...

 

 

Your veins...

spouting a spontaneous

 

fountain of

crimson

course.

 

 

The Rusted Raven

 

 have polished off its beak.

With golden carcasses

to throb.

The stench of success

only seems

interested

 

in hunting down

 

The Stars

 

as foreign prey.

 

 

 Alas,

the wings shall

take their glorious flight.

 

And fight.

As a dare to the Heavens themselves...

 

 

Let the trumpets roar.

 

And the branches die.

 

 

Let Time pass through you.

 

Let Life devour you whole.

 

 

You're going to let go

 

of banal concepts

 

as well as

 

forbidden lore.

'' And, Lord.

Forgive me.

For I have chosen

a different path.

Allow me

 

to sculpt your mistakes...

 

So you can turn the other cheek.

 

 

Allow me to show you

 

your rend.

So you can choose to stay the same.

Dear Begetter,

 

please get better.

 

 

I'm getting too tired

 

to loosen up

 

 

Your Scowl. ''

 

Dialogues Plethora

 

 

An asymptomatic.

 

 Enigmatic,

from over yonder.

 

 

As the scar's fibre...

 

 Moves it away

 

crossing over.

 

 

My Horizon.

 

 

And it slithers.

 

As it shivers;

 

and, on top of that,

 

It just won't

 

fucking

 

linger.

 

 

A r o u n d .

 

 

An ancient pedestal that...

 

It'll tickle

 

your fancy,

 

droplets of

 

dropped dew on

 

the coast of

 

pearly gilded textures

 

from ornamented shadows.

 

 

Meanwhile, their dance,

 

they're

 

sisters now,

 

and have fallen together

 

into bleak

 

twisted harmonies.

 

 

And, asunder,

 

 

 The Thunder 

 

Made into life but not,

 

by the utmost

 

resentful of

 

thermal decors.

 

The lonely amygdalas.

 

 

Now go and fund

 

new perspectives of chance.

 

 As they find...

More experiments

 

to try to

 

recreate a God with

 

less humane prefectures

 

 and less predictable

 

mistakes.

 

 

We're made

 

from clay;

 

our resentful colourless shapes,

 

formatted unto

 

the scale of Titans,

 

but with fragility

 

of stones.

 

 

Constantly

 

under the scourge

 

of unwanted

 

rains.

 

 

 All while, The Reign

swallow us all,

as characters

designed to thrive.

We will clash

 

and, forevermore,

 

we'll try.

 

 

Someday, finally,

 

to make it back to the house

 

unscathed.

 

 

 And Replenished.

 

Our Mantras,

now more than ever

bent out of their shell,

 

 and looking for a way out.

We shan't need,

all the attention,

nor the protection

 

or reciprocation.

For I'll remain.

And I will train.

Your dull senses...

 

Into growing lovely scales

out of feeble matter.

 

 

And last, to finalize,

 

your toys...

 

 

You won't need them

 

anymore

 

 when We cross:

 

 

Ultimate Reality Simulacrum.

 

 

One more time.

 

 

To die with gorgeous purpose

reaching our most fearsome

 

of depths...

 

Otra vez.