PLAY ICE- SKATE FOR LIFE

 The question is : '' What starts as a game, ends as a game and has a game in it?'' The answer: ''Life!''
And this is the way his thoughts come back an forth as he slides down through past and future, spinning and swirling in the misty ray. There is light and a reflection, a shadow cast upon the ice as he flows like a warm river of blood on the mirror surface of the area. He respects all orders and jumps, turns and falls. We all have to fall don't we? Falling, losing everything, losing track of time for a moment, throwing one's life in the other reality, one step closer to the afterlife. The game is still on and none notices the loss of the skater, he has to rise and the enemy behind reflects a ghostly shadow on the ice. All fall down. The skates have no control, the ice is broken, the dream ends in the tunes of a song. The bad iceskater laughing at the good one keeps on following and the notion of honesty has to run away and be safe from the incrimination. He stands up again, fighting his own madness as a song goes on and on, as the sun sets bringing the stars  to join the cold night of Siberia. Lights are gone, strings are broken in the dark and the chase continues for life and death. The good ice skater is so tired he wants to break the ice, break it all disappear from the gaze of the bad one and the duel is now an artist's handling of swirls and turns. The porcelan doll spectators laughing at the trails of blood that now bring colour to what once used to be white open their wide eyes wider and tiny fat hands grab the theater transfering it from one to another dimension as the artists jump and lose balance every minute. It might end up when eyes open but when all is closed there's nothing left to do. In a quest for survival I once had the chance to win against the bad skater but I lost life as he cut a strand of my hair with the sound of a broken heart. He skated over it cutting it all to bits and by the time I gave in we both ended up scribbling our stories from different angles of Heaven and Hell. He shall always follow but who would refuse doing their jobs when everything is a game?

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……

Of lonely magic

  Have you ever touched anythimg like this? I made it for you , it's all for you to store your thoughts and run away just like I do... I'm lonely right here, right now as you write my mind over and over… swirl your fingers through me like the wind in the night and make me open up another chapter in your book… surely I would have done that had I not had to run through colours of the time, symbolic circles of an endlessness where unicorns building stars fly randomely above my head.. Leaving away musical notes just like an arty trail masking my misty way in the eyes of a child whose being hasn't become complex yet… such lonely dreams carved still upon the oldest stone, a smile fading to laughter trapped somewhere in a sweet second… it tastes of almond, a chocolate almond deep as your ink shining on the pavement where I damage myself with irony by candlelight… Pass over my sugar, love so that the sky can taste it with us!  Emperrors of running, hold on to what I created for you!  I have never ever been more secure as I am now and lifting up in a flow of energy I rise a fingernail to rejoin my rainbow and now that I have to leave you once again and for all I'm only sorry for my happy lonelyness with or without you all the same…

Of feelings and strangers

Strange stranger I should not be talking to you now as you touch my hand and as we're falling into a milky silence dripp all the white fragrance of wisdom over my tired bones till tomorrow shall wash my dream away... Already between an integral splitting of realities crossing the bridge with you but so alone that I cannot see the light on your heart... I throw you down and the water protectively covers your face giving you a beautiful cradle forever within its deep deep realm... I will not run and will not cry the sun shall clear away the original being that created this design of life by the rhythm of a lost heart... The broken now turned into a memory because I drowned you strange stranger and I drowned my tears into a substance more bitter and cruel than that... Am I the sinner for having let you take over? No sure not... Am I horison for your new afterlife? Am I the one who gave you wings to find the answers to all your questions? Did I not hold you darling before I sent you away? Oh yes I am and I did all that I thought and said and wrote for you I even threw my heart away with you so that the waves shall not feel lonely while carrying what was left of your coldness... I did it all for you and I'll do wrong if I run away... So, mister judge, please lock me up under your darkened gates of gold and silver and keep me in the corner of forgotten minds where no letter can reach me since no one would spill ink upon my body as the drippy white milk that sent me to sleep and dream of you, spilled all over the place.. It's all gone and so are you , no use crying over the spilled and the lost... After all , mister judge, the one beloved was the least known and I learned that I shouldn't have talked to strangers... Maybe next time I'll remember not to answer a stranger they only want to drown themselves within me and do me harm by wasting one more life away....

I'll write my heart for you...

  I'll write my heart for you... but if you were in it you'd be my song when notes strike me like knifes on the edge... my back, it hurts too hard I cannot wash away the tears of gold, how dry they are, you're so unlikely to reappear again... There is a crack in the mirror just where my fury lingered for a while and there's a dream on the table waiting for my ink to colour it in your blood, beloved sacrifice of strength fallen upon my book oh keep the letters here they run and fall away turning me from myself to wilder as the sun dropping ray messages spitting light on the clock intimidating me with the ever sweetest smile, drifts away and hides like a coward behind the hugest sea... Come back and stop this stupid game!! It isn't fair to come and go away like this!! And the clock smashes itself under a blink of eyelids. Curly hair allover a serpent's madness of revolution and all this while my only move is projecting thoughts to the cinema wall in front. I'm too tired to get up but as thinking is my main act of doing something I chose to devour a non-productive lethargic state.. Oh, and what a delicious thing it is! Delighted by the taste I write my heart for you! Write it spill it with words, poison it with chocolate love and throw it in your face to catch it back and lock it safe so that we can run away on a cloud with an angel-harp in hand. This floating shelter is to huge for the two. I won't survive if love kills me so fall and write your soul for me from underneeth the ground comming upwords... I'm still material and you are away I'm holding on to a memory because tomorrow might be a nightmare.. You should have been more careful. It's all your mistake, my darling! How could you let me write my heart for your loss? Had you not done that you might have still been alive....