uMiCo

so what if the hidden looks are hitting my behind? it's great to have them. I grab them and squeeze them in my fists and I drink the juice with a great love.

then for my private entertainment I let the juice drink me.
dripping...
now I can finally see the skin beneath the surface.

you can be moved by me.

my love... this is the moment of the journey... when you can finally see my tears of the eternal joy.

fAsOpA

what I have is my death upon my breathing air... I love the death-wish because is a coward cunt who needs to be paid from time to time with some light from my retina.

I sweat like a baby's cheek when I see my afterlife in my delicious breakfast milk.

this morning the air was sound and the sound was my skin and we were happy with each other. leaving behind the everyday hill I saw it like a beautiful tight tit waiting to be ignored. I follow its instinct but I threw one of my eye over the shoulder.

the path leaded me into a drunk guy's mouth. of course the environment was dizzy, but I threw out my last eye. my presence has to have something palpable.

rSeV

Cepsy, I had a dream. You were standing in the middle of the road pissing.

A policeman came and started to fart to catch up. You waited for the buzz to poke your head and then... my ear came in. The policeman wished this moment and started to dance with his baton. We got rid of him. And then the piss wave took him away.

What was that vibe?

qAhL

The end of the mind is crucial for everything.
I am bruised because of my experienced thoughts.

A man appeared on my eyelid and winked me to open my eyes into the sun.
Are you mad? I asked. And the man answered by ripping the only eyelid that I had.
No pain occurred and I felt good because the sleep disappeared. What a relief.

I stood quiet... for a while, licking away at the happenings.

mIz

doesn't matter if I am young, intelligent, funny, fat, ugly, hyper-man, newly claustrophobic, willing to experiment my life to create sparkles...

what is important is to be there when you're called or not, mostly not. but if I create the luxury of not being present I deserve to be evaporated.

now I am coming back and I look up and see all the blackness that I drew for all of you. I am picking the best dark and feed you with the most ... nightmare I wanted to have. and you all are trying to cough but your throats are sucking empty air. so all you have to do is to respond at your pain of emptiness.

you will be called to scream for your tormented thoughts.

until then, have a great morning.

oOkPoLd

The storm keeps me in one place apparently with no reason. Its wind is so powerful and heavy pushing my shoulders in four ways. The dog has to come. My eyes are against the wind pulling out my last bit of color. The pain in my body is sweet. The scream from my neck is sweet and mute. All the noises were already assassinated.
The dog has to come. Is it me or the dog?

rUpJid

A beautiful beast ripped my face when I was a child. I couldn't breathe properly and healthy because of the damage.

When I needed a great power to confront a danger the scar transformed me in a great eat-stupid-monsters thing.

Even though I am ugly and hungry I love the dead sky, stoned smiles, the mute birds, the smelly drops of clear water and the humans... sleeping.

tPeM

Again the floor talked when I moved in my night dream.

I get this feeling that is necessary to dive. It's a damn floor, but it doesn't matter in that darkness and in that bizzare night. So I move back to see myself, to see if I'm capable. The moment I move my other me, he looks right back at me and swallows every bit... I woke up here keyboarding this.

the mud from our mouths

after Razor... I kept wandering... why the madness? well, because I have to sketch it for yOu.

SeSiSe

A couple just came out of a theater.
She is supple, well dressed, the face is livid, but the features are beautiful. She is always trying to cover this problem with a lot of makeup, but with no results.
He is dressed in the latest trend, but he doesn’t care. He is rich, too rich, that is why is so superficial and arrogant with her.
They just saw a premiere.
She is very excited and the pleasure can be seen in her eyes because of the new play. He couldn’t care less and did it just to tick it off his list this, despite of her happiness.
- Darling, can you believe that scene with flowers? She asks joyfully.
- What scene? He looks around to call a taxi. Let’s go home. I don’t want to stick around any longer.
- Would you like to take a walk? It’s a wonderful night. She purrs like a cat.
- Yeah, sure. Ten steps later you will complain about your heels and beg for that taxi.
- No, I promise I won’t complain. She gives him a seductive smile.
- Ok, but let’s get away from here.
They start walking hand in hand, she is smiling and he is dead serious with a straight ahead look.
- Oh look, we are close. Let’s check out the shop window. She says anxious.
- You always trick me into buying …
- But, but it has vintage sleeves. Meanwhile she drags him to across the street.
- There is not a chance to be opened at this hour.
- But no, believe me it’s open and they even have a promotion.
Now they can see the shop.
- There it is. The most lighted one. She has no more patience and runs off. She stops. Finally her face takes some color, because of the excitement.
Wow, fantastic. And starts clapping.
Just seconds later he is standing next to her. Looking up now he is stunned.
- Baby, this is awesome. You are right, I admit it, I love it. Even the face is gorgeous.
- Don’t you agree that the price is fair?
They enter the shop to buy a corpse that is dressed real chic.
Price tag: 5.000 dollars.

sKLim

I have a Devil under my bed.

Every time, as the sleep gets here, we play ignorance. Every time he has something for me. I never manage to learn what it is.

While I’m asleep he keeps on notching deep tokens on my retina, doesn’t allow me to talk to myself or settle down amidst my stars.

There are moments when I miss him therefore He is bored with me. I want to make Him notice me so I start vacuuming or I lay down in one of the corners of my room and I attack him with balls made of bread that I baked in my own great bread maker.

He’s body language suggests tiredness, comfort, flunkeyism, meekness desire, human filth and the rest of the best in me. Every morning I have to go and do the work at nation’s request. Same hours, same routine, then I try exchanging body fluids with the same women. Everything I do is for my Devil under the bed.

I want to hold hands with my devil and run to the French Riviera, on the most beautiful beaches, to drink lots of rosé, to tuck in some matching His eyes Roquefort cheese, staring in each others mouths, singing the most wonderful songs about the afterlife only the two of us know.

I have a problem though. I cannot take Him out. He’s too dark for people’s eyes.

It is night again. I am going home anxious to see Him. I hope He is in the mood to acknowledge me. As soon as I step in my house I feel a scent that has never been there before. The scent becomes acid on walls as I draw closer to the bedroom.

I open the door and my Devil is working on the darkness under my bed. He is incredibly cute. I tip toe next to Him because I want to see His hands at work. I envy His serenity while working. I knee next to the bed. He senses that and turns towards me. I pull back on my knees to make Him crawl out. As He gets closer to me the entire floor is swallowed by darkness, the scent carries me beyond my senses, He widely opens his mouth and His violet split tongue falls down. Suddenly I start singing Him the most delicate lullaby while beginning to chew on His tongue until I suck Him all in like a noodle.

Worry less I can step down the stairs of darkness built by my own Devil.

F u C k N e S s

I missed my wind… just because I overslept. Dreaming is not the solution.
The direction is fake.
How can I be straight when I’m a floor?
The straightness is falling.
When I am there I can mutely scream my lungs out for their screaming to happiness. What a FuCkNeSs.
Because I am able to assassinate. I want more. Not more, but bodies. More … more of me in me.
There is a limit set up just for me.

I can and can’t allow this title.

ssssssssssss

this thing is like the best glue. the great music...
where is it come from? what is the real purpose? how is possible to cry like a hurt baby?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BJCTrolF3CY&feature=related