I AM MY NIGHTMARE MIRROR

    Looking at my reflection in the elevator mirror    Bald like a punished whore    I begin to question my sanity      The few hours I’ve been left alone    Were enough to take me to hell and back    Done myself like god to lucifer      And now, on my way to fresh air    There’s nothing on my mind    I feel like absolute nothing      Lost track of my life, of my dreams    If a car ran over me in the next hour I wouldn’t mind    I would help destiny, I would jump in front      Feels like the medication already wore off    Despite the heavy doses, despite the heavy dizziness    The stone golems don’t have faces      I don’t have me anymore    I don’t have a face    All my faces feel worthless      And what’s worse is this doming sensation of despair    So far away, but threatening like always    Waiting for me to slip up, like an awful devil      As I write, the sunlight coming from the window cast a silhouette    It’s the me-shadow, looking like a man, ears clearly visible    Constant

[PT/ENG]    When I opened my eyes she was the first element my consciousness wrapped around. I saw myself in her eyes, in her tired and preoccupied countenance, and this way realized what had happened. But none of that mattered because I had a dream.    "Get pencil and paper now", I struggled to exclaim, having just woken up, and noticed she was already writing .    "Yes?" She asked,  putting herself ready,  and I started to tell the story.    "I had a dream, and now I feel like wolf-woman wa s much more than a mere occasion, an accident. I need the flower I imbued with her memory, for now it is worth more than memory. It is an epita ph . She died. She died last night."    The moment of silence that followed was needed, despite the sacrifice in scenes of the decaying memory of a dream.    "She died last night, and her spirit came to visit. The angels did not tell her yet of the adulterous nature on my side of our unspawned relationship. She is more in

   We arrive, finally, at the building’s front door. Out of the car and barely able to stay on my feet I sit on the sidewalk, back to the wall, waiting for Priscilla to find the keys amongst the mess in her backpack.     “You know what just came to mind?” I ask.     “That you are way too hungry to be spending this much time looking for keys and we should just crash at the dumpster tonight for christ’s sake? Maybe order some pizza?” She replied, clearly fed up to give a shit but doing her best not to break my heart.    But I was too numb to care, and responded,     “No, I was thinking about Bovary. Did you feed her this week?”     “Of course I did, what? If I didn’t papa would come back to life and beat my ass. He loves these fucking cats more than me.”     She finds the keys after a while, but not before the manager comes down to check what was going on and open the door for us.      Today was one of those rare days I let myself inside an elevator, but not willingly, not at all, just o

Wayne and I have released another book, this time a haiku collection. It turned out quite alright and, as title says, is a short, meaningful read in pseudo-haiku prototypes. What it means is that we didn’t kept to any ruling besides the metric norms for the haiku, so you’ll be finding a bunch of surprises if you’re expecting a Basho. The full text will be here in this post, but I highly recommend you download the .pdf version and read from there. Also, you can read the first book here .    Enjoy!   *** [Time] four in the morning life as a pretty flower put in my pocket   in all flowerbeds gnawed leaves live as veterans sordid invalids   smiling diana knowing death is approaching like Luna that night   dead euthanasia for all the sins committed he's been resurrected   we have bananas, beautiful women, coffee, racism and music   inexorable relentless wave destroys all metaphysical   death in broad daylight — the obscene mortality — of a bright young man Shipped with Snow Leopard. De

Black cat reunion Four black cats surround a dog carcass Sat tight, tails wrapped around the paws Three of them watch the rotten meat like hypnotized But the fourth seems to be worried about his companions; On the look out for danger In a moment he meows and then jumps to the sidewalk As a red truck runs over the three other black cats   *** I saw a feather lying on the ground Did not pick it up Today I regret not picking it up   ***    The stars cannot be seen in the sky up above    It’s not going to rain tonight, or tomorrow    The sky is just black, devoid of stars    I’m so high off the ground    The artificiality of white lights can not reach me    Even when shining bright on my face    I am out there, outside this room, through the window    Part of the black meaningless sky, devoid of stars   ***    Their face is blank, I can’t see their soul    I can’t hear them but they ask questions    Able to respond but not doing so    I can’t feel my body, can’t know if my mouth is open or

   Joshua is an uncaring man.    Every day Joshua takes the same route to go to work and to come back home.    Joshua never pays attention to the buildings, the cars, or the people he passes by everyday.    Joshua never really minded the lack of greetings from the people who watch him as he passes by.    Joshua never cared for the changes in the weather, and in every season wore the same kind of clothes.    Joshua never cared for the other changes around him either, but that one route he took everyday changed plenty over the years,    And he still took this same route every single day, without a care in the world.      One day Joshua stepped on an already dead bird.    The bird squawked loudly, truly insulted, and flew away.    Joshua did not care enough to scrap the guts off of his shoes, and left a trail of bloody footprints in his wake.      One day Joshua tripped over a sassy tree root.    He fell over his right arm, that broke, and all the sycamores laughed shrilly.    But he didn

[notes from after waking up]   isn’t it weird that beauty is relative? isn’t it weird that anyone could be anyone’s most beautiful person in the world? i’m not beautiful, but why do people get attracted to me? when does beauty starts to have meaning in a person’s life? when does one start to see beauty? why is she so ugly? why am i so ugly? why the carcass reveals itself a meadow, —a mask to the sewers below? pumping flowers out the manhole, crocodiles in tuxedos at the store down the street. pink sky, mortality-mad, buildings made out of cinder blocks that remain in shape after a tornado hits, but loses its cool at an earthquake, at a ball bouncing on the ground, at the broomstick hitting the burglar, and the thousands upon thousands of butterflies eating away every soft surface in the atmosphere.   *** A stolen grenade is exploded by mistake in front of a store We run for our lives Dark alley, total blackout Wake up with him and strange girl over two beds in a minuscule outhouse The