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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.