December Fright

The calm before the storm.

Waiting in vain, bound to a chair.

Is it me? or the walls are now green?

Why do dreams taste sweet?

Today is a new day, but I feel the same.

I try to run, but my legs just walk.

Why can't I write? Whom must I pray?

"She walked along the beach,

A small breeze made her dress swing.

She was alone, under the morning glow.

She was waiting for her friend to come."

What shall I write? Which ink should I use?

I weep for I don't know.

I don't want to, but I need to punch the wall.

"Until an aparition came,

in the form of a yellow grand hotel.

A majestic sight stood erect over the waves.

Hypnotic, as if the hotel were calling her name."

I sight in frustation; I can't wait.

Maybe tomorrow I'll finish a play.

But today, it's difficult for me to rest.

When it rains

I write when it rains. As if all my pains are washing away. When such a dark miracle shakes the window panes,

Only the taste of his blood makes sense. It allows me to be back in reality, past the tense darkness. While his feeble body lays comfortably on my bed.

Or something like that alone, I would pen aloof. While listening, the rain drops fall from the roof. I wonder if the clouds can see me now; surely they will send proof.

My face is blank, and thousands My inner voice is morphing into the same I shift my body, not my shame.

If only I could be relaxed, free of judgment. While water drips from the firmament Thinking of how to avoid my permanent fate

The only leak I have is predictably in my heart. stepping on puddles of my own hope, crying aloud. I have no option but to follow my own white cloud.

I just want to burn time until there's no more time for me to burn.

A Midsummer Night's Melancholia

With dry lips, she contemplated the night Lonely, sad and thirsty for such a long time, She cried for she didn't know how, but her memories of glee turn to sorrow dust.

It was a still and silent summer night. On top of the world, she behold the closed house Once filled with laugh, now it's empty with shouts Anything not bolt to the ground, now is resting by the street light.

One step in front of the other, The dulled naked feet, step down By the edge of the moonlight She contemplated the summer night

Her cries were heard by no one except for the wind, Now sitting, arms crossed, eyes closed, gentle weep The cheery night did not care for her, Only when they were together everything seemed to be OK.

Now loneliness was by her side, Better forgotten than being forced to smile Yearning some rest and peace of mind Hoping to drink clear sky by the next morning light

While the rain pours

empty, wet street We were under a robust tree. An umbrella made of leaves

Silver-gray sky Waiting for the storm to pass by It was in vain, but we had to try.

Being close to each other We start to share our warm Our lips are now in touch.

The storm may stop But ours has just begun. Time will tell if everything has a point.

A short conversation

The old-fashioned red telephone rang. The sound was heard in every corner of the house. Weirded out, the one drinking coffee started to answer. It was a friend who two days ago kicked the bucket.

-- But why are you calling me? Asked the one whose coffee was turning cold. -- I missed you, and I want to check how you are doing. -- That's very kind, but you are not supposed to be talking to me.

In the small studio, the conversation went on. While outside, there was a howling storm. With dry sweat on his chest, The coffee drinker pressed the handset on his head.

-- I can't see very much from here; I'm not in the mood to move. -- That's because you are affected by a lack of life. -- Don't be silly; it happens all the time!

Surreal, yet so mundane Who would have guessed? A dialogue with a recently lost friend But the living one was now impatient.

-- I mean, you're deceased, you are not supposed to contact me. -- I reckon so, but it wouldn't hurt to talk while having some tea. -- Do you drink? But you didn't like it!

A sigh was heard from the other side. It was clear that the lost one was ready to puke it all out. And what he said made our drinker pale for quite a while.

-- life is what happens between lunches. I forgot to exist, and it took a few punches. I know it's manipulative, but please do not be mean. and accept my sincere apology.

The not-so alive one hung up the phone. What's more ghastly than guilt and woe? What's more unforgivable than lost love? From the small studio, a cry was heard that lasted a month.

Several questions at night

Have you ever had an endless dream? illusions of being alive, Christine. Do you like the taste of lips in rouge? What kind of person do you take me for?

Have you ever looked in the mirror at midnight? Those eyes, like a starless nocturnal sky What did you see? I couldn't think. How on earth are those windows still intact?

I was trapped in a silk pink fabric. Abandoned in a corner of your room. Did you hear my heavy breathing? Or do you just sit there alone?

Reason is not your guide. It's pointless to sit and talk. Do you still have the time? Could you give me those hours back?

I opened the door and said goodbye. But you continued to cry. No more; I put the fabric over you. I will never use that reflective door.

Today I started with the medication

What a wild sensations came!

I feel ready to sleep, but it's not the same.

Am I loosing counciousness or am I insane?

Is it normal? Or an overdose is about to break?

A little incident

He was walking by the street so as to buy some bread. But a witch came and declared: "Boy, you're so lame! Let me convert you into a frog instead."

Zap! Everything went south real fast! The poor champ skipped away. To the bakery, alive or dead!

However, the powerful woman wasn't done. She hopped on the broom and flew behind. She cried, "Hold on! There's something else I must tell you." But the frog increased the rhythm and managed to lose her.

The poor frog was rushing through his thoughts. He needed the fresh, baked bread. But now it would be difficult, since he forgot his pocket change.

The little green amphibian was resting by the water fount. Until the witch surprised it and took off high on her black broom. "You're trapped, and now you shall be my familiar!" But the frog had other plans and shot its tongue into her eye.

Both plummeted inside the fount. With a single dip, the witch into green bubbles dissolved. And the boy, frog no more, took Every single penny the sorcerer had in her purse.

Another depressing rant

Anything can happen under the cheery sun.

Someone lost a balloon.

Others their life

But most certainly, their smiles

A lot occurs under the clear blue sky.

Injustice, robbery, and arson

Someone jumped after losing his mind.

There are lots of posters asking for a missing son.

On this nice, warm day

Families are forced to move away.

Genocide, war, and famine are all around the world.

But there's always more show.

While birds are chirping and kids are laughing.

The intelligent missiles are flying

In some other place, an earthquake has begun.

Right now, lots of animals are prey of the commercial hunt.

There is so much work to do.

So much pain and indiference

What's the point? Is there any difference?

Then the madman is the one who lives alone.