In our dream factory*

We are not made for this world
Its mundane routine and daily hardships
We are children of the stars
We feed on sunrays
Inhale the smell of raindrops
Exhale fantasy
We live in a dream factory
Where everything is possible
Where boundaries are skyline
We are conceived from illusion
And illusion we lust for? To remain
We inject ourselves with daily doses of philosophy
We come up with impractical theories
Test our capacities to draft our thoughts
Using threads of dreams
Painting with a brush of memories
A poem
Someone somewhere will read
And will realize that
We are not made for this world
Its mundane routine and daily hardships

In absentia_

Blocked mind
Flow of feelings
In the head
Too much coffee
Countering the effect
Of last night’s
Surplus of alcohol

And the blood
Is no longer red
It is of the color
Of the mix of substances
Inhaled and consumed
Exploited and abused

How much can the temple take
For the soul’s random
Trips
To the other side of
Reality
Reached through the gates
Of a substance
To give it its satisfaction?

some sour vibes

I have a bitter taste in my mouth
Must be from swallowing all the acrimony
Of people around me
And not being able to digest it

It is hard to absorb the vibes of hostility
They get stuck somewhere
Between mouth and esophagus
Provoking a kind of nausea
Not even the heaviest of meals
Embraced with fat and stodgy lipids
Ever make me feel

If just I can vomit those emotions

Burning desire_

It all starts with a stroke
An itching stroke
And the flame is on
It glows, at start
It is sparkling
Full of life
Few moments
Until it starts eating itself
It eats you
Feeds on its own flesh
And that spiritual fraction of it
It gives a pleasant sensation
You wish it could last
But it is burning
Is it what they call joy of pain?
You want to feed it
Don’t you?
You want to keep the fire going
The addiction to feeling
To the peak of emotions
To the spur of this strange substance
Being transformed
From matter to air
As it leaves the body
That desire
Oriented to the outside
Will soon be nothing
But ashes
You will look at for a long while
Contemplate the desire
Turned into substantial matter
You can actually touch it
What does it feel like?
Materializing emotions
For how long are you willing to feed the flame?

A play of colors and time*

The piercing morning sun
Breaks the wall of ebony shades
Built by nocturnal reflections
Of the unquiet mind

The lips are smiling
The eyes are shining
The body is on go
But what about the soul?

Even the most piercing of all suns,
A rainbow,
With all its parachuted colors,
The greenest grass of the first day of spring
Cannot bring back the colors of an aging soul

The grey that reigns once
Reigns infinitely
Gray is irreversible
Just like gravity

Can you force life on that which is long dead?