Skull

Seven years of bad luck digging holes on his knees
Ten thousand times worst than a bee sting
Ten thousand times less sincere
Growing branches of misery from a small seed
Thousand of memories entangled on bruised wings.
The root of all sorrow that collapsed bones and minds
A blank space once filled with aesthetic tones
Filled with dead voices singing out of tune
Failing to hide a scar that will never leave.

Ash Tradition

He lit the fire in front of him and saw the flames dancing with the southern wind, warming his shivering hands
At the end of the sunset the tide was turning furiously, swallowing the beach and everything in the between.
The scenario seemed to fit his mood, but truly, he was completely at ease. Breathing every salty breath he could with pleasure.
He spit his pride and burned his thoughts, he just left his house, where all the flowers withered before they could even bloom and never looked back.
A wild spirit lonely waiting for the day to end and take his old fake glory mask with the waves.
Longing for an ending for the misery that kept bugging under his skin.
It all seemed so simple, all the footprints were erased and all that was left was the ashes from that campfire.

Mindless Arousal

Warm dim light, empty veins
A sweet role playing game of the master and the slave
The restless bondage
A little foreplay.
Lips are for biting
Skins are for crawling
Velvet feelings in the gutter
There’s champagne in the crystal
A little violence to feel it right
A dose of lust in eyes to see no harm
Covered eyes can’t wait for the surprise