Sinking Ship

10:19 / 31 Dec 2015

Sinking Ship

Blue bugs peeking, real eyes leaving

The room of your year end preaching

I’m listening to your heartbeats

But this empty hands can’t stay alive

I’m weaving out in madness

While our nocturnal love is dancing with the night

It feels so right

Drift away through the time

If the rain comes we’ll drown like a dime

Spin away through the night

And the wind will carry the light

And we’re drowning in southeast sunset

Like waxing moon in blueberry fields

Haunt me, Haunt me

I’m sinking

Crash me, Crash me

I’m falling

But you were standing, slowly waiting

For the end of this suffering

I’m swimming in your delusions

Breaking every illusion 

Screaming out in the corner of your street

It doesn’t feel right

Day 1

Pink sunset,

Drink it up, 

Drink it like violence or 

Chug it like tears

My temptation

Dirty mirror

Broken connection to my own horror

My reflection

Shattered glass

Rejection to my past 

I'm your grovel 

Your shadow

I'm the blurry background in your black and white photo

So shout your hope

Chant your prayers

For we need a little spark of hope in our forever

Kick off your fears and run

Let's go for a ride 

You are the sun and

I'm having so much fun

Pretending to be blunt 

Like the head of a nun

You are the road

And I'm not the shore

We're too busy watching 

The birds that are passing by

Intoxicated, dazed, jaded

Like a fashion victim stumbled on a cracked runway

Empty, clumsy, witty

You're not the one and only

Social Debauchery

Friday/25/Sept/2015

9:33 PM

We're still on the tip of our paradise,

and I can always hear your voice descending from my lips, 

Sinful thoughts, like apocalypse, arise,

I can already hear my name disintegrating from your grips.

I can barely notice if you're wasting me out, or wearing me well. 

The only thing that I feel is that I'm sentenced deep in your personal hell. 

I've got an ammo, ready to shoot.

I'm a martyr and I'll never be with you.

I've got a rope around my neck, nice and smooth.

You're a compass, you know it's true.

We've only been here for a day,

and I can already feel your heart around my neck, 

We're only here to turn grey,

and I can always taste your hate all around my back.

You're wearing me well, and I'm wasting you out.

Drowning deep in hell and getting lost in your pout.

I've got an bullet, ready to boot.

I'd better be isolated than be with you. 

Social debauchery and self-mockery.

Eat your heart out in a proper crockery.

Bury me

/ you demolish me every Monday,

and revive my bones every Friday /

Ear Shattering Lullaby

19:05

17/Sept/2015

Smash the glass to the floor like a motherfucker,

Pull your hair across the room,

And electrify the night.

Drag our history down the hills.

And I will break my own heart.

And shatter my only craft. 

Oh Northern Lights

16/Sept/2015

23.55

It's been three days,

The coldness of the weather,

The destruction,

Fire on my loin,

Hell flamed skies,

And oh the wicked smiles.

Seven hours have passed,

The desire to hold on,

Raging thoughts to move on,

What's your occupation, darling?

Are you still a starling?

Or is it just me daydreaming?

Minutes to midnight,

Through the depth of the light,

Running wild like a child,

Light my fuse and ignite,

The sparks of our

Fight. 

If love tastes like violence

8/Oct/2014

Darling, we're now speeding at 666 kilometre per hour because devil may care who we are and what we are chasing after. The cheap street light reflected on your razor sharp cheek is shining like a glittery ember. "Where are we heading?" You ask while increasing the pressure of the gas as if you were stomping on this gasoline-fucked city. 

"I'm not going anywhere in life and I don't have to go home now." I mumble. I love the fact that your eyes turn into a couple of red full moons within a minute. I look back at you and set the fire in our silence. If love tastes like violence, then this one must be a war. 

My friends told me that you are no different than any other suburban joylessness with head higher than the clouds. Your friends told me that we would be nothing but lost souls in the wilderness of this megapolis; chameleon hearts and dangerous trust in the words of strangers. But now we are in the middle of the open road. Packed with rolls of cigarette and outdated films in our leather bag. Nostalgic -- but if this is how we are supposed to be in love, then so be it. Let us drown in every single particle of toxic waste and filthy carbon emissions. 

Silence. Top 40 upbeat songs from the record label I used to work in are playing in the radio; their five minute to fame lyrics are our only friend in this endless road trip to nowhere. Your gaze is starting to look empty. It's two in the morning; we all know that this is not the waking hour dedicated to lovers with arms intertwined together. This one is a special gift from the so called creator to self-loathing people like us and million other beings with issues more than any fashion magazines combined. We're starting to see stars in our lips, and the nearest motel is still six kilometres away. It is not the most luxurious guest house, but we believe in the glamour of public bathroom and flat white sheets. 

At night we fall asleep to our invisible vision of dancing nightingales in front of the door. Knocking our heads to realise that we are safe in our eternal winter. 

We breathe each other's breath and numb each other's pain until there is nothing left to taste. We explode in the desert of emptiness and swear to the gods inside our soul that this war must go on.