ARTIFICIAL DAYDREAMING

I can't compromise with the fact that the kids are not the same anymore. The kids are not what they used to be. A rebellion left to decay. No hopeless dreamers, no fuckers sleeping under bridge.
Now outcasts hide their second hand youth behind second head suits and tie their compromise round their neck as a collar.
We are shoplifting and we are 21 like our heroes did until the last of their days. So divine and such hopelessness disapproved and misclassified like broken empty bottles on the floor of the Town Hall. No Marilyn Monroe's where praised for this fact and no swans were slaughtered for this nuclear experiment. You get a prize out of this; a microwave love reheated and shallow as your heart is. No painfull lovers just the abandonment blues. My haircut was ruined from the wind of change, from the nervous modern citizens and the politicians that paid fortunes to have our names first act on Google. I got a couple of guns my father left me and a hidden camera on a third class hotel that tapes me fuck retired whores. You can know experience the crash of libido messing with vains and pumps and livers. My 15 seconds of fame is all the hopes i'm left with. My mother just snored when she understood i was the one on the evening news.

THE NOISIEST PAVEMENTS

Our coins are wasted on the arcades and we waste the rest of our days lying on wet pavements screaming and name calling pedestrians. Shoplifting pays well and we keep a twenty percent of stuff for the difficult years in the cellar. In its front entrance we've placed a set of antlers bought from an antique store to keep away the unwelcome. Inside the cellar we keep our stuff and 3 bird cages. Two of them accomodate two yellowish canaries and one bares the weight of our dead mice's skeleton.
We have patched the sockets with plasticine and the speakers are leaky. The dull buzz coming out of them makes the neighbours sleep a real torment as we choose the night hours for our silly basement parties.
At dawn, this place is even more of a mess than how it used to be and we lay or shake on the floor blue. We use the salt our mothers threw behind our backs for good luck to wash every new scratch.
It's all vain, but, it's the only thing we have besides the arcades that pays off a bit. Every new morning is a new plague. As our teardrops land on wet soil we understand that the place you're standing on doesn't really make a difference when you are crying.

PROTEST

i live life in colour
i've come past norms that insist that
black and white
makes pictures more
romantic
sensational
artistic

i live in this colourful world
dressed in black
face painted white
in order to protest
against life
for what
i don't have

ABSENT ROOMS

Statically
you spin the bottle one more time
as the door bangs
unorthodox movements brace your skin and you kiss
the girl with the glasses
pointed by the bottom of the bottle
a teenage feeling comes in your minds
pills and demons
cry with every television personality the see on the
neighborhood. If we kiss hands
you are holy
if we kiss lips, you are a drug
One feels like the discovery of the century
wrapped in paper sheets and dirty blankets
forever untouched
protected from the public eye.
Bastard remember,
we got your back as you scream
"Fuck You" to the walls.

ORDINARY FEELS HOLY WITH SOMEONE WATCHING

dear sacred blasphemy
come outside my window tonight
and watch me
i say all of my prayers last thing
before i sleep
right when i take a piss

SUBSTANCIAL REFERENCE IN LEISURE

i bought a poster today
for my wall
dead cheap from a guy
who came selling it
to buy his fix
the poster shows all races of dogs
in a luxurious living room
carpets, cartains and a fireplace
and all the dogs snuggle around it

what the artist couldn't portray
remains now outside of the piece of art;
me, the junky, our fair trade and the place in my wall
where all of us now
seem to hang from

I'M ALL AWARE OF CUPID, BUT, I CAN ONLY SEE THE DEVIL IN MY MIRROR

You are the world
I am the sea
where
the world will drown in

There's no logic in love
I fly solo for a long time now and
The sky is such
a desolate place

To your awareness
Wings are like shoes
They're only sold in pairs, yet
Their utility varies in lack
You can walk with one shoe
but never fly with one wing

Rephrase the inventory
We don't exist in existence
We are ideas
Body/Mind/Soul
All
Useless
Affirmatives
In
Negative
Calculations

GLOWING BLACK

Now that the windows are crackling
now that the cats are meowing
the phonebooth stays unvisited
only brochures of hookers and trash inhabit its ever exchanging square
we are stilted behind our windowshields
like these low payed prostitutes of the brochures
visionless eyes
waiting for the wind to blow our hair
and tear down these walls
where our fears breed in

Afraid to leave our place in case the electricity might cut off
the television might close
our empty lives we'll turn black and white again
and the only friends we ever had
visionless eyes
interrupted only by the commercials
will get more things to do
rather than staring at the ceiling
waiting for it to fall
on our heads.

BROKEN TRADITIONS

the rain was pissing right outside of my window today
then she,
she passed outside my front yard
i have faith, o' faith
then the rain,
the rain continued getting heavier right outside of my window

BAD EDUCATION, SMOKING IN THE TOILETS.

I hate the kids more than i hate myself,
yet i love the kids more than anyone else.