Moments like these

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There are mornings when the sky is crystal clear, when you open the windows at dawn and you can hear the birds chirping pleasantly. You welcome the first rays of the sun and they delicately caress your face. In moments like those you can feel the peace that floats around you, you can sense that there is purity and gentility inside of a human being, similar to the soft vibrations of nature and its freshness. A cup of coffee, the humid fragrance of last night’s summer storm, the crumbling, yellow pages of a rare, vintage book, your favourite crimson-velvet armchair and all those little things erase the unsolvable complexity of life, and the gigantic questions that can permanently trouble a forever-seeking mind. However, when darkness comes and settles inside the human mind, tension fills the environment, homes, cafes, parks, hearts and entire lives. This overwhelming darkness attempts to let anxiety and fear sneak inside your bones. The serenity of nature that stemmed from your spirit is overtaken by obscurity. In moments like these, the obscurity reveals the rotten and scattered pieces of ego and insecurity that lurk in the tiniest of cells. Darkness seeks to break you. In moments like these, you ponder at everything that led you to where you are right now and you question every choice you have ever made. And sometimes, the voices you hear and the answers you receive are terrifying. They are a proof and a constant reminder that you are failing yourself because you have walked down mistaken paths. More often than not, the whispers that torment you are the fragmented, secret voices of your consciousness that seek to blame you or provide an answer. Either way, the voices are never satisfying enough and regrets appear.

Regrets of things done, of paths taken, of choices made or just the opposite, the bitter, burning taste of ashes in your mouth, the reminder of everything wished and never achieved…glimpses of what could have been, would have been rotate behind closed eyelids. In moments like these, dreams of repressed desires become nightmares and welcome mornings and awakenings with tears and sadness. How do you know you are living the life you are supposed to be living? You often feel trapped in a never-ending routine, an endless cycle of predictable bullshit…eat, sleep, repeat. In moments like these existence seems dull, useless and it keeps spinning inside the same, grim wheel of destiny. The hell of never-ending routine, of isolation, of spontaneity gone awol, of joys and fantastic realms smothered, of unfulfilled purposes and of ardent wishes and desired love lies abandoned at the bottom of the sea. What hurts the most is that regrets or the dire situation of purely surviving and not rejoicing at life’s endless possibilities are entirely of your own doing. You are the only person who is responsible for where you are right now. And sometimes, you just have to take a stance and choose between the roads less travelled by and the beaten track. And yet, you levitate in the ‘Kingdom of Midway’, you struggle and you walk in-between. You play it safe by taking the road that is not predictable, but that it is not entirely unknown either. You are indecisive about your own life and you wait for the winds of change to steer you into the right direction. Two turns to the left, three turns to the right, moving forward for a bit and after, going backwards.

A life full of spontaneity would be intense and risky, but probably worth it. An entirely rational, planned existence would be safe and comfortable. The classical dilemma: Would you rather live an intense and passionate life that is short or a monotonous, long life? I am and I will always be just a kid that can’t decide which cake to choose.

 

P.S: I always had half of my cake and half of one of my parents’ cake!

Stealing souls

 

Drink the darkness of your soul,

The oozing venom on patrol.

Feed yourself

With flesh and blood.

Crawl in the mud,

Hide in the shadows!

You, robber of souls!

On twisting and turning lanes

You feast on veins.

A mediocre performer

From dawn to dusk

With twilight

You change so brusque.

You guzzle on people’s vitality,

Thrive on carnality.

You, Dorian Gray of reality!

You, the Mr. Hyde of nightmares!

You,  a modern Dracula!

You, Azrael walking on Earth!

You, soul collector demon!

You move so swiftly,

Yet, your work is filthy!

Terror, terror and downfall!

Terror, terror by nightfall!

The need to disappear

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It gets heavy, bold,

And strong…

It weighs

As if your whole body

Breaks and dissipates,

Into the thin air.

There is this need

To disappear, to erase

Your identity, your memories.

You vomit your feelings

On the train tracks!

Spill your pain on liquid tar.

You want to become

nobody, a stranger

with no emotional package.

Take to the road

with no destination in mind.

A frontal body collision

Covers you in ice-cold sweat.

Brutally penetrated by hate,

By anger and disappointment

You feel fucking disgusted!

By love, by words, by ridiculous promises

A distorted body covered,

In flashes of

atrocious moments of silence.

Fighting against the windmills

You and Don Quijote,

Both smashed, crashed…

One mentally, the other bodily.

You are like:

An empty glass of whiskey,

full of rancour.

You  hate what you’ve become

A conglomerate of unspoken words,

unfulfilled expectations, painful emotions!

They all got stuck in your throat.

Last time, you swallowed,

your dry disillusion.

With no saliva.

There is this need to disappear

And remove the plaque of steel

From your smokey, dirty throat.

You’ve been coughing blood

Cuz this poisoned love

Fed your veins too long.

Violent convulsions

Attack your body

From head to toe.

There is this need to disappear

To cleanse your wretched guts

There is a need for wind

For sea and motorbikes

For nature and random drunken experiences

To occupy your mind, to make you  numb

To make you forget.

There is this need to disappear

So you can finally let go…