Oswald, I'm wandering.

Oh Oswald, how much we love to bite from the devil's arms.
The sky is frozen and orange, so I'm traveling.
Can you see whatever is beyond noticeable?
My heart is such a heavy anchor but faithful when there is
not much to have faith for, but we can argue this.

She moans, delayed and silver-y.
Delayed in a garden, but mighty.

The venom lured you, to this Violet is supernatural and my fears are bottled.
I wish for the downfall, like the kings bestowed.
Like a librarian, haunted by the wine.

All I get is absolute silence.
Sweet silence has been here before.
I don't need this.
How much do I want what I cannot have?

Big cathedrals,
Cows that have recovered from bad dreams and have
let their milk dry.

I'm just wandering, I'm humble.
It is unfair, I deserve more.

Near a Happening Sun

I wish I'd want to swim inside ancient caves to
find answers to
find inside crystall happiness
blue water.

I don't know,
the pain was red to
each Gospel heart forgotten.

What do I see?
A breeze out the window:
They hold teeth and hands and
fear is away

And we've got a winner.

Again, in spite of an ozone sadness of an
impossible lifetime.

"Discipline, sunny jam."

Song For Ourselves

It was true.

There was blue light,
waves and shells
Music for sun-on-the-shore souls.
Pleasing mountains, a breezing sun.

I've had reasons to feel sad, all for the better.
Carrying the world in blooming faith.

The incompetents were frozen beneath lemon water.

The light beams directly into the water,
what is the reflection saying?

Not a mirage over a year of thirst.
But transparent love, with a smile and a silvery flick.

The Desert

You could say there are different tales to tell at night.
Your absence has made them coil,
has made us put our thoughts inside a box.

It is fair to say we all miss someone through the roots of a wise man of the ground,
a somewhat peasant that preached at a mountain.

Funny enough that mountain doesn't seem to be far from here.

The night was cold, again.








I don't know what you look like, you taste dry
like the wind.

Did the desert know this would happen?
33 men beneath her roots and I don't care if it is dark because
I'm stepping on sand from Jerusalem.

Saints

Today is tuesday. There is a blank space.

I wonder if it is foolish of me

to think

we were both whole, holy and risen

because we are both

named after saints.

Above a Nostalgia

A lecture?


What's her purpose inside an intricate alley?
"To serve only as an entrance, man."
You think you have seen it all
And here were are talking about a lettuce that has been through thick and thin.
Silence was casted as a gun in this scene.

An old gypsy never fails to impress.

"Above a nostalgia"
I thought.



Drops carved a diamond from an iceberg.
This are variegated words, you wouldn't know because your silence avoids me.
To advance, I'm not supposed to love you.

Forward.

Who cares if it's been over a year?
I am creating a whole SUN around me.

You would swim in beautiful eyes that made me
want to eat bread again, I'm traveling instead.

Not red wine,
To seize the sun.
My piano loves me back and
I'm sure there are better days to surface.

For Them

Only as sad
as when your lips carved:
"What have we done to ourselves?"

I could see what you were seeing,
An empty film filled with horror.

Son, every sun turns itself.
Yesterday the curtains were down,
the bed unmade.
They wouldn't see us.
We care.
we care.
They don't know us.
They don't know how much of a sun we have inside ourselves.

We are risen,
and whole.
And tears have tied a string of fire.
Around you,
through me
and beyond ourselves.

"What will I ever do without you?"

An army cried
and placed its thoughts inside a box.
I cried in your absence.
To release a white light.

I hope you can see it from where you stand.

Sun, faith.
Like a little candle.
Hidden in dark,

I prayed.