Sunday, October 12, 2014


Somewhere between the vanity and happiness lies the incompatibility, someone said.
Thus, an invisible quiet and slow soul-beggar ignited stealthily the story of my lost sound.

Pleasure, Passion, Petulance and Pain, all P's went pissed one day and attacked me while sleeping.
Exposed to the thunder I licked the caustic drops; helpless, I weakly assembled all damaged pieces.

Clean and lean, brain-feeded by routine, slowly I forgot and pursued soft and silky ways of Lethe.
The heart-leaking stopped and I selected names to fit the faces of people inside bursting to get out.

Since then, daily, my eyes take pictures blinking, digesting in iris the unspoken words of mouth.
Ι do not expect anything, I confessed one night, just a hand in mine in our small walk of illusions.

Leave me alone in my noise, I begged; Dance with me in my silence, you commanded.
Count to ten and I’ll be there, you said; Countdown and I’ ll be away, I never replied.

All the way to the sick and dirty path of ignorance, I sucked regrets and spit them out, all.
Guided by mind’s obsessions and body’s darkest desires, I quit and became an observer.

Of people that come from the future smiling, with beautiful white roses in hands or under the skin.
Of promises spoken by respectful mouths; with severity and warmth, chasing hesitation away.  

Of surly people that come from the past, impudent, careless; ready to smash up things & lives.
And then retreated back, empty and cold-blooded, into their delusive ambitions and vast carelessness.

Of myself, approaching new lands, leaving behind shoddy rapists; promising to venture further out.
Listening to the music, ignoring the misleading ado; speaking loudly humble words of nothingness.  

I have no illusions, I have spent them all on my travels; my eternal damaged clock shows zero time.
My only luggage, a smile; a lonely curved face-line that always prevails strong when nobody knows.

A blend in my pocket hides; Mistakes and wisdom cover the brittle skin of my future and happiness.
Craving traces of change, my only constant reality; flirting humbly with the risk of the unexpected.

It's beyond my control; come close to my neck and whisper, bet, fight, prove, dare to win or die.
Do not settle, I pray; If I respond, leave; If I stay still, break the cold mold and come in, explore.   

Speak. Shout. Scream. Sing. Hope your words find their way, lost in the labyrinth of a deaf ear.
My hearing, a sublimated gold; and though the sound flies no more, a whistle will always be my reminder.

In the world of senses, thunder approached.
All senses found a way to escape. 

The sight asked the eye-lids to blink and shut.
The touch covered its skin with the veil of immobility. 
The smell invited breath and they fled together to hostile lungs. 
The taste made love to the wet tongue locked in their dark room.  
The hearing stayed alone and asked for help.
None responded. 

Helpless and scared, the exposed ear heard the thunder.
A strong pop slapped its nude boldness.

Deafness tied the ears with a strike and dominated. 
The ear surrendered to the power of incompetence.

Lived with the curse and blessing of silence since then.
But in grace. 
It was the only one who admired the lightning in the dark sky. 
And the only one who will stay naked next time. 
Daring to listen to the thunder coming.

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