Reality no. 2: The Wounds

Reap the outcome of the acts

As voice reverberates from the past

still it is a wound, a leprosy of life

that cannot be disregard

friends that host the supper

a lover who break the walls

of this tight lock heart

a kindle of the shallow start

evening bliss and the sorrowful luminescence

a still dying vein that neither carries

life into the living, eyes are just a ponderer

of the past that bewitched the enchanted moment

drape me now with a sarcastic love

time and space are not mine

this time, the wounds; bleed

as the eyes renewed its vision

wipe those blurry tears away

Reap the acts again!

there is no other time to regain

the spirit that can always hold the present

for the soul only speaks of the past

when that time and space were on his arms...

Reality no. 1: The Monologue

                                

I laughed till the lungs I had collapse

A vessel of jest from a mouthful farce

I used to play this game alone

A monologue of an erected pole

Machismo image should not be forgotten…

As I say I must procure myself again

Carriage of a sleeping beast

Is the phantasm inside his pinkish sleeve?

Or the hem of the torn trousers besieges his hips?

The actress of the act is found!

 Preceded by a traverse in an ocean of lust

Of circumcised dreams that should be erased

From the most decadent side of the temple

Hides the punitive sanction of non-execution

Albeit the consequences does not matter

But its ache will always be remembered.

Traumatic balloons once rested as a guarantor

In the events of disposable hunger and thirst

Of ambivalent actions of excitement in

A fistful thrusting and a passionate grubbing

Aftershock appears after the spurt

Qualms and nausea fill the air

After the balloon’s been prick in excited snare

Alas where is the laughter of the deed?

Is it in the anxious eyes of the innocent kid?

A farce appears as a not to be mistaken scenario

Of a sarcastic laughter from an actor

Being drown to the saliva of that angry director

The beast overwhelms by his instincts

He is not afraid to be beaten—anyway I must laugh again

For crossing lines of being alone, kiss a memory of innocence

Goodbye—rest in peace in the corners of my mind.