A world of shapeless decadence, from a simplistic giant exasperation, fully destitute of multiple origins, is known to exist deep inside each and every one of us. It seems that human beings entirely forgot to fall from the skies of a laborious conduct, exasperatingly bittersweet, enthralled in an ocean of mist.
Eyelids that never were, from human beings that used to be. A frozen sense of commiseration may open a new perspective, agonizing in cold hands that never stood for the truth of life. They claim never to forget how to exercise the clarity of mind that vigorously celebrates the ascendancy of the human soul into a state of serenity, where grotesque voices and palpable anxieties can reinstate a furious sea of tranquility above a world that never calms down.
Eyelids that never were, from human beings that used to be. A frozen sense of commiseration may open a new perspective, agonizing in cold hands that never stood for the truth of life. They claim never to forget how to exercise the clarity of mind that vigorously celebrates the ascendancy of the human soul into a state of serenity, where grotesque voices and palpable anxieties can reinstate a furious sea of tranquility above a world that never calms down.
A laborious ocean of tranquility, sinister days of painful receptacles infuriated by a sizeable storm of buried voids, intercepted by the dynamic expanse of your closed eyes, in the extreme cold of possibilities, shining at the curious length of the impassive voice of an imprisoned smile. Why do I find myself in the constant wrath of a peaceful smile, between billions and billions of grains of sand, to stand between a spontaneous void of reason?
Sound and silence seems to understood the quietness of a door that never opens, without evasive restlessness, nor conspicuous drowsiness. Worlds wrapped in chasms, a restless smile retains a pure love with the sun on the face. Everywhere I look, I see the glory of an invisible ocean of fallible societies, with an insufficient or insane amount of emptiness.
A horizon of neutral elements in the room of my heart, infuriated elements confiscate crude colors in a sensitive overhang of restless abysses due to the limitation of perceptions. A sensational realization of disguised weariness, or a few distant days beyond the detrimental lapses of a conscience that was never right. Significant storms of sincere voices, everywhere I stand. Conspicuous and insatiable intimate wars overcome the perpetual nucleus of a silence closed for centuries of natural ambivalence of solemn hostilities.
Sound and silence seems to understood the quietness of a door that never opens, without evasive restlessness, nor conspicuous drowsiness. Worlds wrapped in chasms, a restless smile retains a pure love with the sun on the face. Everywhere I look, I see the glory of an invisible ocean of fallible societies, with an insufficient or insane amount of emptiness.
A horizon of neutral elements in the room of my heart, infuriated elements confiscate crude colors in a sensitive overhang of restless abysses due to the limitation of perceptions. A sensational realization of disguised weariness, or a few distant days beyond the detrimental lapses of a conscience that was never right. Significant storms of sincere voices, everywhere I stand. Conspicuous and insatiable intimate wars overcome the perpetual nucleus of a silence closed for centuries of natural ambivalence of solemn hostilities.
My character and my sensitivity: a question to find solutions instead of aggressive arguments. In the erased corners of the world, with the huge coalescence of perpetual disappointments that will never disappear – I clearly can’t explain properly why –, I see stone horizons consuming pale cliffs of unscathed dawns, where shapeless shadows never categorize the singularity of distinct sufferings based on translucent exasperations.
Scratched by the sordidness of a dawn afraid of emptiness itself, the overwhelming content and shape of a regular day will never be fairly represented. A bigger look, an eyeball, how to raise and to revive the natural colors of worlds of treachery, erected by the atomic symbols of inexistent sad days, stronger than the fulfillment of a marvelous bigotry.
Scratched by the sordidness of a dawn afraid of emptiness itself, the overwhelming content and shape of a regular day will never be fairly represented. A bigger look, an eyeball, how to raise and to revive the natural colors of worlds of treachery, erected by the atomic symbols of inexistent sad days, stronger than the fulfillment of a marvelous bigotry.
About these days of marvelous rudeness, patience for both sides, as I look into your eyes. I never forgive, I never forget. Short is the distance for the execution of latent sacrifices. The smiling danger, today is so freezing that even my inner selflessness is at risk of hypothermia. I can risk the sky, of such a magnificent vivid blue, just to see the perfect scenario on the other side of possibilities.
Buried in me, an orange disheveled sky. The potential twilight of a greater understanding
about an insensitive ordeal of interior wars lost in the pain of a dissolute thought, into the aggrandizing cosmogony of a system that kept hostility as a prevalent feature of the future.
So precociously helpless, how displeased humankind has become. Basically weaving glances, saturated by the cursed frivolities of worlds entirely submitted by pain. In a constant state of dissolution, corroded galaxies explain to the labyrinths of the soul why life has become so drained by the empty saturation of intriguing wars.
Buried in me, an orange disheveled sky. The potential twilight of a greater understanding
about an insensitive ordeal of interior wars lost in the pain of a dissolute thought, into the aggrandizing cosmogony of a system that kept hostility as a prevalent feature of the future.
So precociously helpless, how displeased humankind has become. Basically weaving glances, saturated by the cursed frivolities of worlds entirely submitted by pain. In a constant state of dissolution, corroded galaxies explain to the labyrinths of the soul why life has become so drained by the empty saturation of intriguing wars.
Congested by dying days, all the fenced avenues of empty cities cry. For sleepy afternoons, infinite shadows of disdain cease the day forgiving the emptiness of weeks founded on the truths of perpetual extenuation. Frivolous shadows drain cold afternoons staring at smoothed melancholy fears, just gloomy, and nothing more than your soul is pleased at the top of the sun.
Theose lines were already written, the destitute fate of a pale mist.
Deep eyes and caress alarming puzzles, doomed to search for painful and inferior benign staggering excuses, that grew more and more obscure as time passes by. Recalcitrant worlds of belligerent grains of sand entirely made of human sorrow lost in lonely streets. From the interior of fake philanthropies, the hopeful smile of an eternal night is so clear, how easily the invisible peacemaker of the monumental exasperation and his eyes that complains about dark seas and turbulent shadows drowning in ashes believe in the veracity of a universe that was never seen?
Under your eyes obscured by shapes, rough elements of thirsty space and restlessness. The latent surgery of a cosmic penumbra and partial pilgrimage of an innovative despair, eroding unfortunate injuries of useless permanence and unsophisticated deflagration of incognito soldiers of despair. All the worlds created by your eyes clarify days without rain.
But all that was left is the full desertion of hours.
In a perpetual paralysis of reason, every day went isolated in hours of stone. An infamous emptiness about cities of sand and wind. The pervasive noise of a universe colliding permanently with the ashes of a time that simply never existed. And suddenly, everything has disappeared.
Theose lines were already written, the destitute fate of a pale mist.
Deep eyes and caress alarming puzzles, doomed to search for painful and inferior benign staggering excuses, that grew more and more obscure as time passes by. Recalcitrant worlds of belligerent grains of sand entirely made of human sorrow lost in lonely streets. From the interior of fake philanthropies, the hopeful smile of an eternal night is so clear, how easily the invisible peacemaker of the monumental exasperation and his eyes that complains about dark seas and turbulent shadows drowning in ashes believe in the veracity of a universe that was never seen?
Under your eyes obscured by shapes, rough elements of thirsty space and restlessness. The latent surgery of a cosmic penumbra and partial pilgrimage of an innovative despair, eroding unfortunate injuries of useless permanence and unsophisticated deflagration of incognito soldiers of despair. All the worlds created by your eyes clarify days without rain.
But all that was left is the full desertion of hours.
In a perpetual paralysis of reason, every day went isolated in hours of stone. An infamous emptiness about cities of sand and wind. The pervasive noise of a universe colliding permanently with the ashes of a time that simply never existed. And suddenly, everything has disappeared.
Today we have accumulated so many magnificent amounts of hatred. I can only hope that today the lower drowsiness from its latent opacity will be able to converge to the dead-eyed lethargy of the serene crystallization of lifeless worlds bought by the gray salutations of consistent smiles.
About those years that have never seen the illegitimate atrocities of sorrow, for furious days of obscure pretension built the impossibility of a tired ocean of mist. The exhaustion of the disease suppresses the vastness of the day in a lower atmosphere inhabited by the empty gaze. Saluting the impertinent impermanence of the remarkable resolution that solves insignificant parities from the tribune of bones, I see the retracted vanity of a constant fear resumed by a voracious void.
In the insidious shroud of a wonderful sentiment, worlds of painful deliberation perpetuate universes of reflective asphyxia. Warning about the sensation of inexistent beliefs, the latent colors of the ocean of your dreams obliterate humankind, in a measure of competence pure enough to contemplate the plurality and density of existence.
Wagner
About those years that have never seen the illegitimate atrocities of sorrow, for furious days of obscure pretension built the impossibility of a tired ocean of mist. The exhaustion of the disease suppresses the vastness of the day in a lower atmosphere inhabited by the empty gaze. Saluting the impertinent impermanence of the remarkable resolution that solves insignificant parities from the tribune of bones, I see the retracted vanity of a constant fear resumed by a voracious void.
In the insidious shroud of a wonderful sentiment, worlds of painful deliberation perpetuate universes of reflective asphyxia. Warning about the sensation of inexistent beliefs, the latent colors of the ocean of your dreams obliterate humankind, in a measure of competence pure enough to contemplate the plurality and density of existence.
Wagner
