mutilation18

 The human skins make the best masks,   Saints on a Sunday Church, demons on Friday’s drunkenness,   We waited until they were sleeping, Crawling out the room, the barking dogs piercing my skin, Stealing a machete, a hammer and a saw… Kids disappearing from their homes, Residues of their little fingers mixed with dog food, Records found the babies were still alive, Struggling and crying desperately when we flip their backs, Connecting their cranium with the cement, the velvet floor… We flipped them and hang them upsides down, They started puking and calling their mommies, We begin to cut their skin, i

 Dreadful nights mocking this solitude, Empty hopes, the rope of my suicide, The last illusion has root falling down my cheeks, Destroying every beat, every little want… Darkness sings while the cat’s razors kiss and devour, Drunken perfection wasted inside absence, I mesmerized your words, painful leftovers of confusion,   And I seek no longer, the warmth of your ghost… I have absorbed your charade, Now, there are no more petals without two, Shattered mirrors breaking your today, for tomorrow was your bluff, And I melt inside your memory, traced with the doodle of your laughter…    English is m

The Dungeon The dark and empty dungeon seems to laugh at you when you look at the building structure… it was suppose to be demolished… a house that seems to vanish any guest, from many years ago. As the hostess of this mansion… let me warn you… Life says that this dungeon is haunted and is the "the most unpleasant." The mornings are sadistically cold and bleak, and when I looked outside you can see the pale light of the fires in that region of the iron, and the heavy smoke that had been suspended between the stars and echoes. Every night, the room door opened violently, it was a sound of hurried footsteps, breathing hoar