ScrewOfYouRs

RoyAL

TheFuneralChanT

It was that child. that pushed the door violently and said out loud - I cannot breathe. No one noticed it, better not. she screamed to her feet, walk walk! they walked. She screamed to her body, be be! It flooded her. It was that child. crawling in the floor, eating the words – is too late to be. She touched her own sex searching for something that would listen to her. She abused it and still no answer – I cannot breathe.

It was that child, the child that flies around, humming the funeral chant. humming the chant that shouldn’t be listen to – I cannot breathe. Clocks ticking, life ticking and so many doors violently opened. So many doors closed by the sound of a goodbye.
She is grey, with fingers of a keyboard, mouth of a fly, legs of a spider.
She is the broken bottle, she is the vomit you throw away after a bad night.

It was that child I met tonight. She pushed the door violently and said out loud – I cannot breathe.

I embrace her with warmth, take her keyboard finger hands, and place them in my drum. The drum that beats the same sound of her colour. We talk silently. We feel soundly. We become the frames. We become the swim in the land of no oxygen. A place for mourning. A place where we are. Where we don’t have to be.

It was that child that no one wanted to meet, screaming out loud – I cannot breathe.

While in her sleep I dreamt of me. Gluing her mouth, sellotaping her scream. Slashing her brutally. She looked up and laughed – You forgot my eyes. I pushed her away and tore her eyes apart with my hands. She moved and her body kept on laughing – This breath of mine is now yours. We stopped breathing. There was no breath. A dream of no breathes. Now we can sleep and stop pushing doors violently. Now we can chant. The funeral chant.

The funeral chant
knocks
The funeral chant
sings

Oh what sorrows
Oh what pleasantries

The funeral chant
knocks
The funeral chant
sings

Oh goodbye
Oh thank you

We tried
We tried
We tried

Oh what words
Oh what a dream

The funeral chant
knocks
The funeral chant
sings

The chant that we don’t want to listen to
The chant that hums shadows
The chant that doesn’t breathe

We tried
We tried
We tried

dançA

FlyingTime
Nado em ti
Nado em ti

Nado na dança do FormaalgumA
Nado no cancro tão desejado, tu
Nado na alma incorporada, tu
Nado nos pulmões que me respiram, tu
Nado nos lençóis da liberdade, tu

Nado em ti
Nado em ti

Nado no plural, nós
Nado no dois nosso, dois
Nado em ti

Nado no tempo sem tempo, tu
Nado nas ruas que pisas, tu
Nado na voz que me chama, tu
Nado no meu corpo, tu


Nado em ti
Nado em nós
Nado no Só que te acompanha, tu

Nado em ti

Somos a àgua que lava as ruas
Somos a àgua que conhece o sempre

Nadamos em nós

A dança nadada
A dança da liberdade

rAsga

Komatsu
Rasga. rasga um rasgo.
Para ficar marcado. ficar.
Para ser àgua dos banhos da imortalidade

Rasga. rasga um rasgo
Záz____________la.
Som que rasga
o que se despe
o que se veste
Imagem que rasga
o que se vê
o que se esconde
Palavras que rasgam
o que se conta
0 que se guarda


Rasga. rasga um rasgo.
Para saber o medo. o medo.
Para ser àgua dos banhos da imortalidade

Rasga. rasga um rasgo
Záz____________la.
Medo que rasga
o que ser quer
o que se repela
Saber que rasga
o que já se soube
o que já se sabe
Timidez que rasga
o que se é
o que não se é

Rasga. rasga um rasgo.
Para pensar no peso. o peso.
Para ser àgua dos banhos da imortalidade

Rasga. rasga um rasgo
Záz____________la.
Pensar que rasga
o que se sente
o que se teme
Peso que rasga
o que se vê
o que se evapora

Rasga. rasga um rasgo.
Para contar histórias
Para saber rasgar.
Para ser àgua dos banhos da imortalidade

Time

AssIm

Assim,
Como o cão sedoso
Que corre desvairadamente ao encontro da àgua

Bebo a sede vagarosamente
Bebo a àgua com sede
Sede de àgua. sede de procura. Sede de sede.

Como o cão sedoso
Que corre desvairadamente ao encontro da àgua

Corro vagarosamente para a sede vaga
Corro para disfrutar
O sabor da corrida. O sabor da àgua refelectida. O sabor das sombras vadias.

Como o cão sedoso
Que corre desvairadamente ao encontro da àgua

Vejo distraída
O homem sedoso das palavras
Sentado não corre. Sentado ao encontro sedoso das palavras. Sentado sorrindo à corrida desvairada do cão sedoso.

Como o cão sedoso
Que corre desvairadamente ao encontro da àgua

Encontro
Um encontro distraído
Um encontro inconsciente
Do cão que sou.

Assim, como.

Round&AroundUs

She shall begin with something that already begun…
A mass with it’s empowered acceleration
A body with it’s empowered fatuity

A thrill
A string
Pulled it right
It takes her in motion

Her hand is down
And they stare at it
Her hand is down
And they stare at it

Little complex Simple enormOus moVements

Slowly…genTley
She takes her hands off

Contrary to the equation
It seems that her roughness
Is empowered by the beginning of her beginning
O = 0_1/2

VeinsOfYou



VeinsOfMine


PaperOfYou




SquareOfMine...


TreeOther



Others2


Others3


Others

JunkOldMan

Junk Old Man

Junk old man
There is still people that search into the garbage
So don’t worry

You will sing
And remember
When you were once 11 years old
When you lost your virginity

Junk old man
Sex is easy
And you know it since you were 7

Now is too late to change it
Drink red wine
Sit back and enjoy the trip

Junk old man
The box that seems empty
Is full of stamps

If you look back
You will remember
And in this present
You wonder if you ever saw it

Junk old man
The empty boxes
Are the shadow of your stamps
Stamps of sounds
Stamps of whispers
Stamps of junk

Junk old man
There is still people that search into the garbage
So don’t worry

I KnowSomehow-CupOfTrain

I KnoW SomehOw...

I know somehow
where I lost it

Like a poison
with no taste
Like a poison
gently running cold in my veins

I know somehow
where I lost it

It runs with its misadventures
It runs knowing where to go

The poison of a dead face
laughing at me…
It’s your turn now Bárbara

To forget your wings
To forget how to believe
To forget your feet
touching cold old ashes

A cliché of knowing
A cliché of living
A cliché of feeling
A cliché of words

To know somehow
where I lost it

I’m tired
And I could have thousand dreams
and still not awake

I don’t love
I whisper only
The whips of feelings
The slaps of desire

Down on my knees
I fall
and let the candles burn
on the weary photos of people

Rotting and at peace with it

I touch my tears
I taste people
and leave them in peace
in my fucking camera
By capturing the lost ness
that they haven’t touched yet

Is today
Is tomorrow
It was yesterday
That the captain left the shore

He touched his tears
and tasted it’s own flavors

It wasn’t sugary
It wasn’t salty
It wasn’t
what he knew somehow
where he lost it

I blame all
On his dead face
And I dream of mine
… dead face

''Us dono gràcies...''

‘‘Us dono gràcies, Senyor, per haver-me donat una bona polla.
Vós que m’heu donat un pollot gruixut, gros i bend dret, lloada sigui per sempre la vostra grandesa.
Vós que m’heu concedit aquesta eina capaç de resistir impàvida les lleis de la gravetat, vingui la vostra Llum sobre el meu gland pelat.’’
-Sebastià Alzamora, Nit de L’Ànima.

''Being Somethinghness

I fall upon ashes
And I can only see my feet clean

I fall upon ashes
And if feel those warm ashes on my face

Their grey are my heart
Their softness are my heart
Their fate are my color

Grey ashes as a loyal shadow

__________________________________________

I do not see
I do not cast
Which belief one may follow?

I do not care
If my wings are being stolen

I do only see
An EsCape
Of this tiresome sound of us…
____________________________________________

Oh what fear?
Oh, what lost?
Made you scare away of such divine wonder?...such love…

Hold my hand…walk with me…
Let’s wonder about your fear…

Let me warm you up
Let me melt your icy fear of yours…

Tiresome sound...of Us

Such unconscious conquer

An I detached from self
An observation detached from ego
A touch detached from hunger
An action detached from addiction

Actions that nest in this self any time they wish to conquer
Feelings that nest in this self any time they wish to conquer
Thoughts that nest in this self any time they wish to conquer
Dictionaries of temperament that nest in this self any time they wish to conquer

Conquer us…
An inevitable unconscious conquer
Or not?

That's it...

That’s it…. An addiction at it’s best….
Parallel feelings
Ambiguous tastes
Antagonistic warmth

You in my world
You in my invisible skin
You in the middle of my legs

In a paranoia that exists
Within doubts
I have too many souls in war
And neither of them will win

Just me alone in a bed of so many tempests
Where my feet don’t find a ground
And my head doesn’t find a sense of time

Only by existing and doubting
Here
I can only live with
Parallels, ambiguous and antagonistic flavors

buona notte

6725345

‘’… The wind of the wing of madness.’’