Incandescence Day work in progress

The world's a comfortable hell
Not inhabited by demons
Fat with consuming flame.

Our skies are never filled
With beasts with wings of skin
That prey on us from within.

All that the eye can see
Are blackened silhouettes
That fade in frozen reverie.

.........................................

No space to hold my head up high
But with the melting of the snow
I will soar right through you sky

Idele lui Februarie

Cateodata n-ai nimic
doar frig ce iti ciupeste pielea.
N-ai clepsidra,
doar tigari ce ard durerea.

Cateodata n-ai mancare
doar o sticla langa pat;
adormindu-ti linistita,
revolta tanarului stomac

Cateodata nu ai soare
doar zapada ce ingroapa
zbatandu-se adanc in fiere;
amintirea-ti schioapa.

Cateodata nu ai vise
si nici somn linistitor
si te gasesti pierdut pe strazi
amortit, nemuritor.

February Fatigue

Tell me please
What difference does it make?
If the ground beneath
Is firm or shakes?
Do we get to keep our youth?
Or do we get to know the truth?
Do we get to live some more?
Do we get to live at all?

Tired of fighting
all the windmills in my head.
I rest now,
in their soothing shade.
I watch the world unravel,
all the games I never played.

A look in the flesh
And there is nothing there.
A mask of skin
That no one can tear.
Life divided us, one year each
And the exit is within our reach
Memoirs replayed in heads
Before we sink into our final beds.

Post-Something

If spirals of curiosity drag you out
From your nest, out in the wild
In search of fellow survivors
within freedom's crumbling towers.

But all that the eye can grope
Is flesh and scales and feathers
All of them devoid of hope.

Within the reach of our Almighty king
Nobody knows what life can bring.
some dream of life, some dream of dreams
Some die in vain, without a dream.

Such is the mortal sleep design
With eyes wide open
The fabric of our fates entwined.

However life paints such disgusting sights
Of coin paving streets with blight;
Streets flooded with gentlemen so blind
That ride on banknote horses full of eyes.

And by the power of reality
Our bodies exhale silent tranquility
While the soul delightfully flies
far away, above past july skies.

In the end the world's a Titan
Not moved by either force nor prayer.
His will, unbent, unbroken
His compassion dormant, never awoken.

The 10 Second Dream

Life lies on earth
Like a field of windmills.
With love as our propellers;
Out of control,
Slicing
everyone and everything.

So I, like millions
Have lost my head
In sweet serenity I died
In your warm embrace,
Reborn
each day.

And from my orbits,
The will of Mars has sprung away
Like feral mouths of animals
Ready to ingest
Everything
that came your way.

And I must admit
I was rudely awaken
From my exquisite shallow pain
I learned to love
Blisters from work
If your love's the final gain.

For even God knows
And in joy he shakes his head;
And slides a tear
From his alabaster eyes,
Seeing monsters
Fallen in love, in abysmal beds.

And i know I am a monster
For my skin is
Scaly,smooth and hard and black
Coated with wine and drugs and poetry
And many failed attempts of heart attack.

But what is she?
A child of love and heartache
All buried in her dress.
Her mouth strangling damnation
Between lips of cherry red.
Her pace is calm, her voice down toned
And when she laughs,
Divine notes of music unfold.

I only wish my eyes were glass
From the melted windshield
in my heart.
To mirror her,
The way her image seems to last
A sight the centuries would keep
Like ancient treasure from the past.

And if time decides
To take away our chances,
I'll break the matter into pieces.
And in the architectural chaos
We'll surely know,
Who we are missing.

But even the cruel and taunting universe
Has granted certainty to me
That we shall never
Know the meaning
Of monochromatic monogamy.

Morning Reverie

I woke up beautiful today
In mild and pleasant hangover
I felt no pain.

I raveled with the sun in bed
In his delicate and warm embrace
I closed my eyes and looked ahead.

I dreamed of youth dining with age
As the sound of keys fell lazily
Like drops of ink upon a page.

Inside my humble box,
Raw music is delightfully baked
By chewing teeth on toast,
Which a friend has lovingly made.

Beyond the glass, out in the wild
Factories took some time to breathe
And seem to laugh just like a child.

It's such a wonderful Saturday
to be Tangled in the web of life
And let the clock wash away
The little time that we have.

If there ever was a holy war, we lost it. If there is indeed such a thing as purposeful existence, it has no place here in Leodium. This town in which life walks avidly on feet, flies frantically on wings, crawls desperately on the ground or burrows savagely through the molten rock, is but a grim shelter for our carcasses.  And this is but one of the demon cities. I am sure that somewhere there is a written account of how many there are, of how many we are...but I never gave too much importance to such things.