seandearth

wings, black scattered on the wet floor standing apart. feet firmly on the ground, eyes staring forward. tears all over the salty face, starting to shake up and screaming for the world to fall apart over him. kneeling down, he promises to return when he can, but he cannot part. wet wings and slow limbs do not make a good sum. bye kid. cut the wings, they no longer serve me any good.

red burned feet standing in front of a door, the door opens and a girl comes out. the red feet move towards her to hold her. the hug lasts a few minutes and then, leaving the door open and lights turned on, they proceed to walk to the nearest park, about a mile away. the walk is lasting long enough to build up the scene. first they talk, then they hold each other, and they sit on a blue bench. when the moment comes and the red feet start to run she cries and turns home.

sometimes, maybe very few times it is possible to see a smile. the grass is yellow when the frozen wind from winter tries on other suits. and then the smiler is able to make other people giggle or laugh, not that it is his intention... snow melts and it is happy psycho time. he goes out. when you see a bald black dressed 20 year old freak in the street please smile and wave at me, i will be pleased to hear from you.

nevermore: the tale of the little fuckbag. it all started when i was young. i should have guessed that when my father told me to sing "mother" from Pink Floyd to my own mom, things were not well. and because i am a scumbag i did not react, i just stayed put like nothing happened. and when i most expected it, hell broke loose, i even feared to get hurt (???).

yappy doo. today was great trying to stick my neck out for you while you slept in my bed with someone else. (note: she never told me she was bisexual, although i think now, in retrospective, i would have been even more interested in her) so, while i was shot with a shotgun (!) robbing rum from "the treasure island" brewering and liquor store, up there in straight to hell street, you were having fun with a ridiculously beautiful woman. (why did i go out...) thank you honey. next time, i hope i am invited to your party

well, i gotta confess that even though music is on really loud and my neighbours are feeling a little bit itchy with that and the fact that i got a new pet tiger... out in the streetcorner of my building i find a new specie of rare bum listening to Radiohead playing a rare version of Lucky with Michael Stype, he tells me that i was late to the meeting and starts running of pulling my arm. He led me to a passage where i thought they only sold weed to the desperate, but it turns out that it was a lot much more than it appeared to the naked eye. a girl, of about 10 was there screaming. She was screaming at us, it was way past her bedtime and we were late again. When she was done yelling she told us that we should stick together when we entered chayna town.

nothing slow, just a blunt object slammed into my head ruling out inmortality. one second my face was here, the other it was all around like trying to kiss the floor.

lean forward and suddenly you are blinded and coughing from all the smoke around trying to break free of the air coming in sucking on your bleeding lungs that try and try desperately to cling to the heartless mass of body kneeling on the floor of the kitchen's ceiling upside downward spiral freezer coming to get that tongue of yours swapping it for someone elses that cut in your throat up and in and blood to take out the tongue from your larinxx

braindamaged and limping i walk to the beach. the tide is always rising fast, like in a red dream. the waves crash at my side, and the rocks care to fall apart from my bold and fearfull steps. i hold on to my pistol and the war begins. i shoot at the sea, once, twice, three times. then the waves crash me down, only one is needed, and i loose me gun, my determination, my temper and my chances of killing the unkillable. the sea leaves me on the sands and returns with the tide. i am left salted in a cloudy day sneezing and sandfull of the lesson.

Shit happens, right? wrong. Shit crawls over you, inside you and only then it happens. It's like i'm cursed running from an unknown all powerful mummy inside a fucking pyramid that has been shut my whole life. Then, again, history repeats. A woman comes claiming to be Cleopatra (you all know who she is). We dance, yep, dance trying to shake the mummy. Then we do roll over and have sex, then i have to harm her in a way she asks me to, gently but full of meaning you wouldn't understand. Try to make a promise for me, never sleep with a mummy, the aftertaste is not that great. ps>the song that gave me the title is "all these things that i've done" from The Killers

I was thinking about the movie, and how it was forbidden to play at the cinema because of the tragedy that happened around the time it was supposed to be ready for the public. If the reason was that a jet engine crashed Donnie's house, and that alone, I think the cause is so small and does not have a clear perspective of things. In the movie, the main character stands alone against time, death, illness and a hostile world. And what he does, besides battling for his life, is giving it for the things he loves. Maybe this is what some people didn't want to get out of their heads, this is not necessarily a bad thing. He mends the relationship with his mother, he falls in love, he grows closer to the things he should, and he dies with a smile in his face, knowing that what he did was the right thing. It's when you take someones life that all goes to hell.

well my dearest friends, it has come. the time for being honest and distrustfull at the same time. i may endure the perils of being left alone, but i will not come to the ground by myself. who will raise one hand and come with me? why don't i see hands up? it was clear from the first moment you weren't up with it, your apretiation was limited to show yourself today, but help is something i never asked before. go on home. while i wait here for someone to sit beside me.

watching you, stare at the wall. the big red brick chunk that separates you from the cold outside. I stare for hours, you stare for hours. Climb down from the sofa and grab me by my tie. i fall down once again. On the floor i hear the music you turned on, "like spinning plates", the live (and better) version. It is true, i'm really stuck here, with you. A little romantic figure only in my head. i guess all that slapping around is only trying to wake up.

it hurts... i wake up and you are there, like trying to tell me you are not. All the same i hurry down the stairs to throw you out, but i end up sleeping in the neighbours dog/house. The thing is i was so bored and horny, i had to knock at your door to tell you that even though you dont like me, i would love to hate you. i really dont know why, but i hit your name every once in a while, i curse for a few minutes and think about calling you, and then i hide behind my sheets, and sleep with my girlfriend, the one i love to hurt.

Come on, excuse my dirty laundry, dishes all over, my smell, all the arrows that point towards lack of self respect. If you cross that line, i will have to kiss you. (your legs move faster than my voice, you throw yourself to the ground and cry) Better here than in the street, out there it is cold, at least i'm in room temperature. The tears wake me up again, i've been sleeping for hour while you do your thing. As soon as i put a pin inside yourflesh, you too wake up, finish sobbing and slap my face like i needed it. (you reach inside my mouth with your tongue, flickering fire of desireless soft and fast skin brushinghair withoutsensesrespondingnomore......

close your eyes, i'm still staring. Breath in and out, reaching for a reason to stop. In the middle of this hand touching you, you might find peace. a striking blow wakes up the beast in you, as you rush to get your blood out of the floor, you smile, staring, and kiss me quickly before going to bed. And then i cry as you get farther away. cry in the middle of the night, without music, without scenery, without real pain, but with a nasty smile of pleasure upon your face. "next time you it's your turn dear"

coffee smelled like shit. we were late to meet come friends over at the bar on the corner of our street, sex was the ultimate reason to be late, but it wasn't this time. Now we were recovering from a fight in which she nearly drowned my ass in the bathtub, and also i tried to commit suicide an hour ago. What a blast. i love her though, i really do. sometimes it can only be expressed in how i touch her, in how i embrace her.

i wanted to write in english today. Dust really does turn it all, when i tried to sleep (and i write i without capital letter, because it is not more important than you, or them i guess...) and finished dessert inside the fridge with a carrot and some soda. woke up tied to bed, she was beside me smiling and smoking, which i hate a lot. told me i wasn't good enough if tears never flowed from my pretty little black eyes. so i cried and told that even though i knew she wasn't good enough for me, she was all i got, so i just had to love her with and also without my dirty black heart. she whispered that she did not need me, she was only there to help. i liked it that we couldn't stop crying then, it was a lot like sex, satisfying and also tiring. did not speak for hours. woke up the next evening with her on top wearing tears and a necklace that i made her.

Tight and quiet, he tied her under a tree while he tried to have her. She never refused, but it was always cold outside and inside. They fought over control once more, without feeling the blood they took from the other each. she fainted when he kissed the back of her neck, as he tied himself to the tree, to the throat, and jumped. ps: wish me luck trying to find someone to do this with, will you?

having stopped, he looked at his wife lying on the floor. He danced around her, like she still had evil spirits. she cried and moaned with her eyes closed. they stared at each other, tears on faces, blood on ground. Music was comfortably playing in the background, maybe Muse or Radiohead, like spinning plates or new born. she slapped him in forgiveness. (maybe it will be continued if i feel it deserves a chance)