Satanic Profanum

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we are intruders in the fog.. looking for blurred-out images.. individuals chained to dusty memories.. that are not even ours any more.. we try to find, among those grey and undefined outlines, a sharper figure.. a hint in the vague horizon.. even if undefined as it might be.. and as we approach the truth, tripping over the rigid branches of fate or the slippery weeds of destiny, we only discover faces that are not even real.. just anonymous..

we are innocently naive.. we think good is inevitable.. but those who carry it are damned.. those who deliver it are cursed.. and those who receive it are forever chained together by the myth of sweet-tasting poison.. what an unbalanced path when we always have to lose.. 

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you rubbish crooks.. you useless apostles.. spread your pestilence with those dirty hands that are eager to relish every rotten soul.. those toxic tongues.. those black wings of ill omen.. you wait in silence at the top of peaks

ignorant of your choice of venomous actions.. 

you insult butterflies with your multicolored morals.. trailers of forgotten springs.. pay attention to the insult you profess through your true dark colors.. you should wear mourning clothes.. you should have your wings at half-mast.. all you do is provoke rage with your iconoclasm.. with your insulting perfume that destroys the now useless respect of red-brick mausoleums.. the hand of punishment will fall upon you.. and it will be justified by a hundred official bulletins.. with words that are more empty than your mindless habits..

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after all, the announcing of the prices will soon follow.. the prices of colorful silk ties, covered with symmetrical blood stain.. of patent leather shoes tainted with the scent of betrayal.. and when we pay our dues.. may be one of these days.. once the crippling autumn is gone.. we'd find a clear passage.. to the true but candid spring..

amen

Inspired by Norman Mailer's The Naked and the Dead.
Featured in Historia Sexual de O (1984).

that awkward moment..

sometimes you realize you're losing.. and that you're losing because you keep making the wrong decisions.. and that you make the wrong decisions because of your twisted personality.. that same personality that was once your source of pride..

ironic, in an awkward way..
having your strength be your reason for defeat..

life has this amazing ability to humble us in more ways than we can imagine.. its limitless yet seemingly justifiable unfairness, which is the main reason behind nicknaming it 'bitch', is really not the ironic part here.. you can face unfairness, depending of course on the extent of your tolerance threshold.. it all comes down to believing that you deserve better.. and such gut feeling will most probably stir something inside of you that will induce courage, willingness, and perseverance.. it will somehow make you see things though this glass of self-confidence.. and sometimes that's all that's required to pull through..

been there, done that..
yet, this is not one of those times..

no matter how tough it goes and how hard it is for you to struggle it, when you overcome an unfairness and you pull through, wow it's just an amazing feeling.. it's actually rewarding.. you feel you did it.. you over came the fate daemons in their own game.. for a certain moment there you feel invincible.. you feel like standing firm in the face of life and shout, "bring it on bitch".. 
life on the other hand is probably standing there thinking, "i'll let you have this one, i'll let you feel invincible for a moment, but we'll see who has the last laugh"..

life knows..
life always has the last laugh..

i believe the last thing we hear before we leave this living world and crossover to the virtual existence that follows is life's echoing hahas of victory.. 


now comes the awkward moment that led to me writing this..


i can actually hear them now..
guess it's time to say my last prayers..