1. Atonality

Sometimes, ugliness should be preferred over beauty,
Even if duty has to get your hands dirty.
But the dogmatic stench always covers the fragrance of vitality
And turn every incipient harmony to atonality.

Thus murmurs the disorganized army of slaves
As algae carried by the waves,
Dancing unwillingly to an fantasized melody
That could never find its way to a memory.

Jumping like hungry beasts on carrion,
The endless tide of one-eyed barbarian
Tears the flesh, crushes the bone and the dream
In the most cynical way to redeem.

2. A Surface

Hands holding hands like stones laying on the ground,
Fingers clenched as if anything in the other could ever be found.

A surface against a surface.

Words are erupted in the air but no ears ever digest them,
For those are here to kill the messenger and ignore its gem.

Indigence through an automatic materialistic resorption,
A system where vanishing within an ever elusive matter is the only option.

A surface against a surface.

3. Resurrection Of Resentment

For orgasms and seclusion
Are the earth's benediction,
O' sad and grotesque nature,
May your hold meet nothing but failure.

Resurrection of resentment,
Renaissance through non-consent.
Far in the distance, a frail light glows
But weakens as time flows.

Hatred, like a confusion between the self and the other,
Peacefulness is doomed to smother.
Death and future collapse then merge,
And motionlessness becomes an urge.

Yearning for a total dissolution within the I,
As dissolves the last remaining tie.
After this climax of finally falling so low
Nothing will ever follow.

4. Sunburnt

Grandeur has never been, and never will be, the ability which consists in striving to raise your gaze as high as
possible.

Acid sweat dripping from sunburnt foreheads,
Burning wide-open eyes, sweeping around the elusive.
Sunburnt.

No additional clairvoyant vision ability,
But the darkness of an equivocal obscurantism.
Sunburnt.

A pseudo-reality not discovered but imposed,
Clumsy and frantic interpretations juxtaposed.
Infantile mind incapable of being lulled by the coldness
Of a plausible assimilation of our complete loneliness.

Sunburnt are the wanderers of the sand.

Dead sand paths lead nowhere but beyond the threshold of one's scorched delirium.
The propagation of such ideas is a contamination and should be stopped by all means.

5. Hatefilled

Burning,
Thrown to dust, wounded memories are now burning away.
Hating,
In a sign of desperation, tomorrow's shade fades to betray and decay.
Grieving,
For life and death constantly collide and turn everything to grey.
Stopping,
Holding your breath until sight fades and mind goes astray

Time sinks while the sun falls through a decimated ground,
Cursing, revengeful, hatefilled.

One name to call them all
One blade to behead them all
With me you shall fall

6. Meant To Be Wrecked

Is it a breaking point, a state of no return?
A moment in time when suddenly everything starts to burn?
Losing grip and losing sight, then falling into the black depths of your mind.
And after a freezing fall, crashing on an unexpected ground, hidden to mankind.

Down there, a dusty road surrounded by distant rubbles,
The ruins of a time, of a life and of countless troubles.
Is this finally a solid ground on which one could stand erect,
Or just another stage of this lifelong downfall that is again meant to be wrecked?

7. Life In A Blood Spasm

Endless silence blows on all that the dead man shows.
That night his finger stopped on me, in a striking pose.
A soundless gasp, eyes that collapse, a wordless mouth;
The skies turned to a black burden from north to south.

Thorns like blades rose from my bones,
Turning them to lifeless stones.
They burst through my now transparent skin
And started an endless and alluring spin.

Life in a blood spasm
Death in an orgasm

I was cursed to life in a blood spasm
And will be cast to death in a forced orgasm.

Farewell, treacherous humanity –
He who is fed with nightmares
Finds no satisfaction in evanescent whispers
And humble insanity.

8. Hollow

Between the cold and grey concrete walls of this hall,
The lone dancer's flight ended up in a breathless crawl.

Crushed by pounding footsteps that were tearing him apart,
And slowly sucking all the blood from his weakened heart.
The moon's rays won't reflect onto the mud-eyed shadows,

Cold are the thoughts, cold is the will.
Cold is the sight that no empathy can ever fulfill.

Inexorably sunken into groundless voids,
In a world that suddenly became too small.
Where all surfaces are hollow.
Where all minds are shallow.

9. The Crushed Harmony

Drowning below endless sullen tears,
The weight of time buries nothing.
Memories of forced footsteps are still present,
Amplified by the echo of the years.

Never look back.
Time heals nothing.

Never look back to face the crushed harmony,
The intolerable profanation of beauty.
A world once so dear, a comforting homeland,
Now reduced to ashes and sad meanderings of sand

A soft and warm milky skin
Soaked in embarrassment and chagrin,
Disfigured by endless weeping,
And bitter lips bound by fright.