All those structures
no longer hold.
They’ve given way,
as their fabric
are just too old.

Castles of sand
demand water,
yet feed the land,
as some old waves
come hit harder.

Roses flourish 
under the ground;
yet no one sees,
as stems unleash
once sand is down.

Facing the truth
cuts deep.
Feet stuck in the mud,
I run around,
there’s no exit.
I must crawl out;
I can’t just quit.

I once awoke
from those vain tales;
from old standards,
my mind derails.
Too proud he who looks away
and sails asleep
until astray.

I can’t stand those smiles
that judge me
for not trying,
for calling me intense,
too disturbing.

They wear costumes
yet they think 
they cracked 
the code;
They are liars.
Their smiles are fraud.

Beliefs protect the tender core 
of our being.
At times, they turn too sore;
as they shield
from more dying.

I knew better,
yet I couldn’t bring myself
to shine brighter.
Now, in the wreckage,
I crawl;
at times, bitter.

Presence wears no masks,
and still I run away
from my sole task —
to uncover 
my dreams 
tucked away
in her bright grasp.

I’m pissed at he
who dares to lecture me,
although he’ll never reach
the depth of his psyche
the same way I unraveled mine,
cutting all ties
with my bare
honesty.

If the voice doesn’t speak love,
it speaks lies.
It is not so much about remembering 
how to speak
as it is about cutting
all fake ties.

We have already arrived 
because we have never left.
We might have forgotten how to ride, 
taking our very next
breath.

I have fallen into the trap,
that of confusing my best with perfection.
And in so doing, I have crucified myself 
rather harshly 
on the altar of soul integrity,
to the point of losing sight of my ultimate
and sole destiny:
love.

Yet perfection feeds on obscurity,
protecting what cannot yet withstand 
to be seen unpolished, raw and vulnerable.
It is merely a dam,
holding the ineffable truths
that will set us all free
in the void of eternity.

I bled,
hoping I would eventually reach solace.
Yet I have lost myself
in the labyrinth of despair.
And now,
hope is dead.

Don’t tell me I should be happy
when you have never reached such places
that break a soul
in a way only God
can weave into art.

My words seek no eyes;
they are my last attempt
to hold truth
and maybe expand
beyond what shame
has collapsed into lies.

The boy inside gleams;
yet his light somewhat flickers.
Forgotten, seers attempt to shine brighter.
He dares not speak; he shuns danger -
him he once loved is now stranger.

The boy inside dreams;
in his garden, he grows flowers.
Forgotten, fears awake in his gutter.
He is the one who sends whispers -
so I can birth this new chapter.

The boy inside screams;
folded in his prayers.
Forgotten, tears escape from his corner.
He wants nothing but surrender -
that I become the sole leader.

The tempest quiets.
The violent waters
now subside.

All the voices are gone.
Alone in the flesh,
where soul may thrive.

Lifeless, I rest in the womb.
No new quest
until I come alive.

My naked cheeks, resting on sand —
my soul’s soothing…
here’s my new trend.

I caught her eyes in the distance.
I look around —
her, I… no fence.

As I tune in, my soul whispers:
May I approach…
and come closer?

Quite uncommon, gentle allure —
staring our souls,
the mind unsure.

I weave the crumbs 
of my old self
into the art
I’m here
to serve.

I crawl into the dark
of my old sheet
until I cry
and fall
asleep.

I curse at the altar 
of the Divine;
devoid of skin,
I’m raw
in time.

I bleed those words
of silent pains;
I touch the soul,
pouring
my veins.

The marrow spills…
Shadows uncover my Spleen.

I fall child-ward.

Foggy dreams.
Bloody guards.

All lights have dimmed,
so as to seep into the marks
that my jaws have left
into the dark.

Prey about to be eaten,
cornered by black ravens.
Shall I then listen,
as they whisper
long-gone heavens?

I wish I cared a little less.
I wish I had a little rest. 
My head’s spinning.
Shall I dare stay unflinching?

Outstanding grief in my balance,
solely expecting me to join the dance.
A breeze is seeping through the cracks…
That human pain, etching its marks.

That scaffolding wasn’t !
I wish I could have loved you holy…
Now I bleed - I miss you so dearly.

In the crucible, the dark is foggy.
I take those steps quite blindly.
A few tears running down my spine,
I’m not there yet - I guess that’s fine.

Forgiveness is a journey,
I carry the cross, as my trophy.

I didn’t come for any praise.

All trees suffice,
under their shade,
as they stand still,
we rest ablaze.

Alchemy of breath,
they deliver,
in the quiet,
soul-lengths to raise.

Their sole mission,
serving all souls,
such is their role,
veiling the burning rays.

Even in death,
they warm our faith,
embers of gold,
to solve our maze.

Divine beings,
into the wind,
their branches sing,
soften our gaze.

I didn’t come for any praise,

no legacy,
I’m born to be,
and rekindle
the human blaze.

I walk clueless.
Eyes on the screen,
sometimes, hopeless.

All them bots around,
only waiting for their weekend.

I watch —
the longing within
fills me with tears.

I’m desperate,
moving through muddy fears.

A whisper in the background —
if only I could… remember.

Echoes of loving voices —
a cosmic mother.

She attempts to seal all my pieces,
while I cling to old feces.

Our souls rot.

Simple machines
wearing formatted smiles.

What if I stay…
stuck in those mines,
black-faced under the ground,
and forgetting
my soul is grand?

I have become a mere neighbor,
drowning in games
and their labor.

Io & Behold!

Nothing escapes
the God master:

I Am A Bot.

Yet, in presence,
my Self’s higher.

They used to pick on me,
back then, when I was too chubby.
I internalized the blame,
the shame—I hated my body.

One Piece on my forearm;
Sanji, my inked symbol.
My life has turned around—
bullies have lost control.

My body is now my friend;
I wear colors, I don’t refrain.
And in my way, I’ve made amends;
I wear that smile—for others’ pains.

My body is sacred.
And as such,
I shall ensure
it is well fed.

The game of life—
it has no end.
That is the point:
just pure presence,
to which I tend.

I came to see
all that beauty.
Yet unhealthy,
I’m not that free.

And in my quest,
I build my nest.
I start to feel,
then come to rest.
God is so real;
we’re all His guests.

One day, I asked this old man:
“So what message you have for all humans?”

“Respect is lost, son…
And I’m afraid.”

People are frost, gone;
They are insane.
I miss the old times…
Kids, crazy around—
But I felt fine.

Today, values are optional.
Now, who reads the news
In their journal?

“Respect is lost, son…
And I’m afraid.”

People are lost, done;
They are in pain.

There’s no meaning.
I choose what sings.
Beauty is all —
My eye, too small.

I’m not that free,
Yet that’s all me.
It all reflects
What longs to flee.

The time is right.
It shifts all sights.
The world’s unfair.
We’re all too rare.

Life’s so absurd,
Honest, yet blurred.
Now I must stay —
My soul’s a bird.