Afterlife Rebirth

   I had to decide what to do with my life in the one that was to come, so I took it with me in a bag full of fear and light. I started searching for the kindest sensation of floating into nothingness and as candlelight was starting to burn my shadow I manage to escape through a small instant and lose myself in an inmense structure of supreme conclusions. Trying to find out why the dream wouldn't end by sunrise and how a soul made its' way through the natural order of ballance breaking the compositions into thirds. Gallactic taste of stars opening a pathway of milk to infinity , pushing me towards the central forging, to see the master of abstract illusions. Day and night cannot be a contrast now that they are united in a whole and my feelings turn to stardust dropping to the ground as I see your eyes from up above fixed on my burned shadow on the wall of a revery. I left it there with you so that your dreams would not let you feel lonely in this life or the next. Closer than everything the path of light opened in the spark of a miracle and falling life like summer rain leaving all that once used to be my force and will is now drowning mother Earth in a silvery ocean of unknown rebirth. Behind me and far beyond the gates the darkened truth of a shape spotted by grace of a candle is now a mindwork of distopia. The pale is extinguished and I am gone for good till some call shall bring me to true reason out of my floating serene sleep…

CHRISTAL LITERATURE

  It is so hard to remember and yet the most detailed story rolling up before my eyes in an unclear realism, making my confusion more and more specific. What brought me to the state of dreamlike reality must have been something as deep and destructive as love, for it was love I was thinking of before the car I was in fell down shattering the air, destroying the universal harmony in a system of world interconnected symmetry... Hearts might stop for one another but the constant metallic ting-tingy sound of the unfriendly computer that assures others keeps me from sliding away into something different. Before my eyes a spinning of lights, so much art linked to the fine line between the abstract and today's innovation in electricity, making me find a poem in everything, a little drop of sunshine sparkling on everything and everyone especially at night, when the monsters of darkness cannot cover their good souls reflecting themselves upon the screen of my letargic memory... And screens are what I see wherever I turn to, especially precious high quality ones transporting my whole integrity to the miracle of essencial thinking... Storing everything in an inner magnet brings me one click closer to passing over all information to you. Wireless technology is much wiser than we thought encouraging our love through my modern breathing tube that requires no cable so that my ghostly walk remains unobserved by my sleeping nightguardian and my ignorant angel. I can throw all secrets of this institution over the window and over the rainbow, lock knowledge in the king's secret room of wonders and keep the key. Thus even him can be my ellement of torture and all gold in his realms will not buy my key, my little metallic defender against Gogol's dead souls running through life's sweet illusion.
  Pain and fear, all taken away by a touch of morphine hide into the mist of what has to be forgotten but for some reason I cannot understand I manage to give them up instead of calling them to let me see how much alive I am. With every minute my mind becomes my supreme reason and you lie there burrying my love in a breathing tube while I run for what they keep in their little cyber tubes. 
 When the faceless man dressed in white asks me my name and what year it is I take him for a stupid jester and amased that he's a medschool graduate I smile at him with superiority: 
' Look here, sir, my name is not to be known by the ones who don't know what they need to know and our current year might not even matter for the future counters of time... I well know who you are but how comes it that none had the skill to register me in your insidious archives? I'd like to debate all this with you, however I'm so tired and I have to go to sleep, wake me up when I am needed and gather some self for yourself!" 
 And so I sleep and dream of laptops being turned into  a diary of pure christal literature ...

Abyss of the Above

    Yes I remember… all there was to be seen in the ideal world revealed itself before my eyes. I used to surf the moonlight with my little knife opening small interdimmensional gates trying to cut with care and passion the fine lines that identify the genesis of our being. I found you sitting on a bed of stars, in a tubullar weird capsule contemplating on theories like: what would it be better for hummanity between dancing upside-down and floating inside-out?
' All these questions and procedures stimmulate the brain to a suprene functionallity!'
Oh, I could have fallen in love with your abstract thinking painted in the most beautiful and soft facial expressivity. I could have stayed there for an eternal lightyear and watch your desorientated swirl where mind conquered mankind… there where all that happened I started to lose ground in favour of gravity and the huge magnetic force was pulling me away from the black love of Space.
  In an atmospheric worldly light I woke up to find my little pieces orbiting around the Earth from which some time ago I depparted in a magical dreamship. The knife is now yours to keep and I hope it msnages to cut away the illusion of a brief memory cought in the darkened abyss of the above……