Tuesday, August 02, 2005

through the mirage

...rapid slaughter of 'ol gentle time, shivering
yellowish core of my spine -- unpainted
anguish envelops my souls, losing
myself to the caprices of the s u n;
the stubborness of the m o o n...
Destiny, hold me like you're really there
gape at me like a thief ruling the break to
snatch my heart and consume it to the bottomless
ditch of your thirst, my thirst of an undying passion
How soon is the right time?
Pity the blind spirit that seeks
the abyss of an empty chinese jar,
the hole of a butterscotch donut,
the gap between two lost souls
sitting on a park bench
waiting, hoping, and waiting still
for Fr. Benavides (carrying the famous bible
but the finger in a not so usual direction)
to point at them and say how stupid they are.
Where is the genuine reality?
When things are viewed in a relative manner?
At the tip of Tahiti? In my skirt's pocket?
Or in a dark corner of room 212?
Maybe not all stuff that are made of this world
are authentic
But one thing's for sure,
Life is filled with cartoons and masquerade parties.