Used and Abused.

How many times is needed for a mistake to be made so one can finally learn something from it? How many times does a sinner need to sin until they start looking for redemption? How many times one needs to look in the mirror to finally see themselves? There is no such thing as an end to misery for the misery can be found in the smallest of things and the most insignificant times, regardless it is still there. An endless circle only to be again lived in a different way. It is the saying that nothing lasts forever. It is both the good and the bad news. It is always that moment alone at night, with an empty bottle right next and an already smoked pack next to the overfilled ashtray that gets you thinking about the moment it all started to crumble.

Just like a building… It is not only one part that goes in vain, that is just the beginning of a ruin. In time, it all turns back to dust… leaving just a memory for the ghosts of the days gone by. No matter how much one wishes to turn back the time, all the whiskey one drowns in, all the smokes one suffocates on, all the drugs one still feels upon can’t turn the clock around to what got them there in the first place. “What a shame to judge a life that you can’t change.” One song to remember it all. Another one to relive it all. All next to the same comfort one only knows for an eternity now. Always living in the same fantasy that maybe one day it will change. That the tables will have turned around for them. Never it will be the case. Or the opportunity. Once the action is done, the reaction will linger forever. The effects never to be changed. And what is the most bothering, is that… It never happens for the smallest of things, but for the ones that will eat the soul forever.

The reason you are this very person in this very moment, it all started with one simple gesture. One small action to set out a domino. One doesn’t necessarily needs to go to Hell to be punished, they can go suffer in the Purgatory or worse, their punishment… to roam the Earth without having a moment of silence, of rest, until the end of times. They don’t have a God and the Devil won’t take them, for they tricked the nature. A sin greater that killing yours alike. To try to change the very structure of the setting. A wanderer, a soul never to find home. Abused by their own mind with the same torment they inflicted on others, even without trying.

Used by the body for the filthiest actions only to find no escape, not even in the end. They know it. After they have seen the snake that eats their tail never-ending, they acknowledged it.

The soul is used and abused by the very things that allow it to exist.


Permafrost Sovereign.

       Every year, since the first blanket of snow covers the Earth, the Northern Lands find their way back to the primordial Darkness. A Darkness that makes the wicked shiver. For those who are not from there believe there is although a spot of Light that can shed the venom away, so every year, fools find themselves on a quest they think can conquer. The Natives know how it goes. It is the place that even if it shines the brightest eats you whole, with no hope of return. You can see some of them trying to warn the adventurers of what lies ahead, but they never listen. They are drown to that place. The lake calls to them. Animals stay away a radius of two yards and they still don’t think twice. Once they arrive at the shore they can see that the frozen lake it is unlike any other lake in that stage. The color is a vibrant green, resembling the ocean in the tropical part of the world. Travelers untutored venture first to see if the surface is safe to walk on, when certain, they go to the middle of the frozen space. They are mesmerized by the fact that even if it is solid ice beneath them, they can clearly see feet under. They see fish more colorful than the rainbows after a savage summer storm, they see more life in the plants underneath them than they notice in a newborn’s eyes. They spot creatures that belong thousands of miles away from where they are.
       When amazed to the core of their soul, it is when they realize the mistake that was made, when they believe every story told, when they wish they turned back at the first warning received weeks ago. The coldest shivers run down their spines, their limbs transfix, their faces contort in grotesque expressions and a feeling of fear weighing more than five stallions galloping over them absorbs their presence. That is when they see it. Her… lying dead under the pellicle of ice. The most beautiful woman on the face of the planet. A white figure in a lake of envious tears. Her hair more white than an archangel’s wings. Her skin so pale that it has no contrast to the ice surrounding the water area. Her long eyelashes are decorated with crystals of winter drops. Her full lips have a look so alive even if their shade resembles a morbid cadaver. Her high cheeks that could have the most beautiful rose touches have the image of ashes stamped on them. She is so fragile that they never saw accents so small on a grown woman. They can see her sumptuous feminine attire through her over worn sheer gown. They look at her in pain. In fear. In love. In desire. In lust.
       As they feel their own pain, they kneel on the surface of the lake trying to be closer to the fair maiden under them. Each and everyone of them tries to kiss the ice in the spot her lips are, believing it is some kind of fairy tale. But she opens her eyes. Bright and lively big eyes stare back at them. A grey so clear, almost white pierces their being. As amazed as they are by the way they look, the mare humans freeze from the evil that flows through those eyes. The travelers back away as the ice beneath starts to melt so she can step in the world of living. Her once mauve lips are now of a vivid scarlet. Her hair looks like it didn’t touch water in days. Her skin shed its cadaverous shade to look like milk. As they are paralyzed by fear she wickedly smiles with a mouth damned to make you sin. She gets as close as physically possible to them, to smell them, to hear their heartbeat, to touch their cold skin, to search for the life in their eyes that she eventually is going to take.
        People she took years ago are still alive in her deep cold kingdom, but the life of theirs left long ago. It didn’t matter if it was man, woman or child. They were hers now. So was this one. She took him by the hand, leading back to the hole she crawled out of and dragged by a notorious force, he followed. As they descended in the cold abyss the frozen film sealed them under as nothing ever touched the place.
        Therefore She is now waiting for the next victim to prey on. One more soul… and her frigid reign will  collapse Above.



“The path to Hell is always paved with good intentions”.

He knew that. He learned it the hard way. If they only knew… they in fact surfaced his way back home. They didn’t know of the creature lurking inside of him. He knew he didn’t belong, but where on Earth he would go? Used, mocked and ashamed for mistakes he did not commit. The ones he did… were hunting him and always pinching him in the back of his head. He grew up wandering and wondering. All the women who passed by his bed never made him feel more than carnal pleasure. All the men who drank with never fulfilled more than his social needs. His mother used to tell him that there is something in store for everyone and that he is no exception… He smiled thinking it was the only time his mother was wrong.

He walked the streets imaging how it would have been if he lived in another era… Back in the days when there was no artificial mechanisms, when it became dark along with the nightfall. He wanted to believe in possibilities. If it was to meet someone, he wished that person would be as misguided as he was. He loved to walk the path of Ancestry. He wanted more than this world has to give. He liked to think that the Universe made a mistake, that he was born to late. Little did he knew he lived a thousand lives before this one. Cursed to roam forever in confusion in every life that he’d receive. cursed to search for his stone. The Stone that would give him meaning and purpose.

Along the axis of time he searched and searched. For years, centuries and epochs he struggled to find Something. The Something waited for entire eras for him to come back. His Embla waited for so long… on the other side. He was to return Home soon.

When he will be ready, he will go back to his life, to his Stone and to himself. Until then, the ride is full of soul. The stories that he’ll tell to his kin. The things he learned in order to be complete. What took her seven lifetimes to see, took him hundreds more to believe. But as he has few things he likes in this life…

The Show Must Go On. 


A lesson never learned.

She stared at the ceiling and from time to time she closed her eyes maybe she’ll fall asleep. No victory on that front. She sat now on her bed, crossed legs and head in her hands. She thought at the past days. She thought about today. A tear ran down her cheek as she realized what she has done. Soon enough a tear became two and an insatious cry rushed over her. 

She couldn’t stop as she gave a thought to everything she did. It ripped her apart realizing that once more she threw it all away. She threw herself away. She never wanted this but something behind her screamed that it was the only way. She remembered the words her mother once told her… ‘Trust no one but yourself’. But what can she do now when of them all, the one who betrayed the most was herself. She made a promise to herself, she swore on her her father’s grave that she won’t do the same mistake again. Here she is, crying her lungs out, losing the count from the last time she said it would be the last. She began to feel like it was in her nature to break it all over again. Bits and pieces of the passed came to her mind making it hurt even more. She wanted to run, but this was the thing before she got here and before that and the list goes on and on. 

She looked at the bottle on her desk. As her nerves started to tickle in the back of her head, she got up, still crying, took the bottle and opened it. She looked at it with more disgust than she ever felt before. She opened the window and threw the bottle as hard as she could. She took a deep breath as she heard the glass shattering on the cement, but that was only a small piece of what she wanted to leave behind and it only made it worse that she had to get to this point. She felt more helpless than ever. She never wished to turn back the time than in this moment. She felt as if she was again in the 9th grade. Wrath was the only emotion she felt for a while. Again she felt it. This time not at the world, not at the people around her like she used to – it was easier to pass the guilt elsewhere – but at herself as she realized the she was the only architect of her own destruction. Long ago, when she thought that she was taking the pain away she used to say that self destruction was such a pretty little thing… she used to be the one telling herself that the only person that she needs is herself, that she wouldn’t trade her believes for anyone. Oh, how wrong she was. And this hit the hardest. The fact that she wasn’t her facade, the one she built from that dark day of June… it hit. And it was a decisive move. 

It made her feel everything at once and then nothing at all. She stared at her reflection in the window and felt nothing. She didn’t know which one was worse. Everything or nothing. She thought of how she could fix things. Until now she was successful into making it ‘right’ one way or another. This time was different. This time she knew that even a deal with the devil wouldn’t mask the truth that scratched her spine. And it felt like claws. She laid herself on the bed trying to shove the thoughts away only for one quite moment. It wasn’t the case as the sun started to pierce through her curtains. A new day was there, but unfortunately not a new life and certainly not a new her. She had to face it all over again today.

Whisky Fever.

I’d like to stay for a chat. Not a small talk. An all night long talk. Let’s share a glass, or two, or the entire bottle. It won’t do us no harm… the talks thou… I bet they’ll get us tipsy.

I’d stay for nights to talk. I’d stay for even more to listen. I’d like to share an old good Chivas when you tell me your happiest memory. I’d tell you what was the one that made me the most content with life. And then the stories will flow.

I want to hear what made you this way. I want to know what made you change your ways. I want to descifire the puzzle that you are in between sips.

With every hint of orange dark chocolate that I swallow I want to find a new pattern in your self. With every marzipan incense I take in I want to search and create a new definition for you. With every pungent sting I want to explore the insights of your mind. With every sip I work around in my mouth I want to discover another piece – a piece of what makes you happy, a piece of what makes you tremble, a piece that makes you sail away, a piece that reminds you of you, a piece that makes you tell me about your childhood, a part that speaks about your heart, a piece describing bits of your soul.

I want to feel that peach scent in my mouth that tells me what makes your blood boil.

I want to be that powerful taste. I want to be the whisky that makes you shiver and shake. I want to be that almond spirit flavour that raves you when angry; that spirituous savor that ignates you in every single way and for every single thing. 

If this a 25 year old, I want to be The Icon.

I want to discover in you that aroma that not only will make me drink but also extract the uniqueness in scotch. I want you to make me be that genuine essence of ‘everything nice’ that can be found in the right spice.

Give me that rich gold chroma so I can be that luxurious long lingering sapor.

Ocean Soul.

I want to fade… I want for the sea to take me. I want to let the wind carry me to unseen places on the other side of the world. I want a leaf to transcend me into other realms. I want to find something else. I need to discover another side. The story ain’t over, yet closure I want. But it ain’t in a world of perish. A portal to another dimension. A portal to a life of wisdom. A door to other horizons. Wide open windows to flaming souls – is what I seek. Ephemeral ways are no longer my path. All the energies passing by… they are whispering in glasses. Purple wine overflows golden bottles. It fogs the vision of white powder. Green liquor melts stone goblets. Rain embracing blue flames. To be taken where birds are walking under flying tigers and next to swimming hyenas… that is where lost images might be and craved words might be seen. It seems like yesterday in the next season. The cold summer in the heated winter. Flowers blooming in the time of Autumn. And leaves dying in the Spring Equinox. The imprisoned Death in the suffocating arms of life. Just like a Lover dying for Love… a heart without cries but full of ideas. A brain without rationalism but full of emotions. What they seek inside, I find everywhere but around me. Alive in illusions and dead in the right hemisphere. I seem to seek the seek. I seem to forget the remembrance. I apparently crave the actions of a fervor. I crave the attention of life. A proof needed to deny oblivion. I dream about souls turned into pages, only to be able to collect them into a book. Just like a tree collecting leaves.Mythological dreams return in time to give back their own clarity. The creatures coming back only to prove themselves still capable of breathing again. A treasure captured in a royal mind, like a  warrior kept under a flaming cage.


Let the bodies hit the floor.

Fuck me and my mistakes. Fuck you. Fuck him. Fuck her. Fuck him especially. Fuck all of you. Fuck my belief that it might get better. Fuck my way of holding on. Fuck all of the people who don’t like me. Fuck that bitch. Fuck the one who fucks her. Fuck that city. Fuck that city, too. Fuck your friends. Fuck what we used to be. Fuck college. Fuck those songs. Fuck the past. Fuck the games. Fuck your lies. Fuck those fake people. Fuck your opinion. Fuck that nonsense. Fuck your morals. Fuck your attitude. Fuck your weaknesses. Fuck your promises. Fuck your admiration. Fuck love. Fuck hope. Fuck my ideas. Fuck my dream. Fuck your world. Fuck their society. Fuck that damn smile. Fuck those eyes. Fuck your face. Fuck those fancy clothes. Fuck his money. Fuck her skills. Fuck his talent. Fuck the so called blood. Fuck their pride. Fuck your name. Fuck this damn world.
Fuck off.

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