Wandering in the Mist
diving in the lake of time,
desperately trying to reach the
the guardian monsters too
stranded on the tiny island,
middle of nowhere.
old habits return,
bottles cover the beach,
the sand a burial place for armies of
mementos of gone years,
wasted in a soulless country
looking for meaning in cold, unfriendly
betrayed all beliefs,
the drink the one thing that kept me
and I betrayed the bottle, too, for the
sake of wasteful nights
in embraces I never cared for.
the warm embrace of death,
Emily, I'm coming.
the vast sea girdles me,
I see the wrecks, can't reach out and
open the treasure boxes
withholding the few precious memories
like the vapor of melting
call me out from wherever you are,
give me a sign! I plea with the sky,
no response; only the strong wind
ripping apart trees,
the surf crushing on the shore
washing away the bottles, taking them
deep into the ocean
to faraway lands I was never destined to
it's alright; another bottle opened,
middle of the night, getting drunk for
the 60th day in a row
after a weekend break that seems so
the stars are nowhere to be found, no
only the clouds and the warm wind.
and I feel fucking alright, despite the
Another Forgotten Angel
when she walked in
the whole room was set on fire.
the lights went on, the spotlight
her long, blonde hair.
all air was sucked out of the barroom,
even the lukewarm green beers were
she sat down, across of me;
I drank, she nipped her
no words were ever exchanged;
two different worlds
not allowed to collide.
silent staring, soul-chatting,
thoughts transferred from one mind to
it ended the way it began,
with a bang, a flash of lights,
the fires died out.
we returned to our respective
to where we belonged.
years ago, another memory that haunts
the dreams on occasion
and brings forth a momentary faint
on the stained by years of substance
the beard reeks of meth,
the veins have reached their breaking
yet, there was a moment I sat across
from an angel
and she gave me a meaningful smile.
a fire ravages my heart,
and there's not enough wine in the world
to quench it.
stepping into the Familiar
into the emptiness
of the void once more I
remembering the immortal words of
wondering where in the hell did I go
when did I take the wrong
so many empty bottles,
each of them with the potential to be
the fatal one.
words echo in the dark,
the walls have retained every soft
whisper of the night,
every enraged outburst,
every false promise.
the moments, the smoke, the
all imprinted on the mind,
every bottle helps in erasing the
painful tears of separation.
moments, forever gone; never to be
seeking for answers,
only questions arise;
every empty bottle an attempt to put an
end to the charade.
no luck with this one, I've got more in
thus the world still makes some sense.
the neighbor downstairs is getting
occasional screams break the
I still miss the old one that would
bring me free blow.
happier times, simpler years.
the age takes a toll,
closer to the finish line than the
it's alright; inevitable endings,
and there are no happy ones in the real
broken down heroes of centuries past,
molested ghosts in the dusk,
dreams created during acid trips of a
moments thrown into a burning dumpster;
more kisses tasted in the glass-pipe,
time to move forth,
even if there's nothing there but chaos.
The Laughing Dragon in the
of the moment I'll land
back on the street of childhood dreams.
back to where I grew up,
the too familiar streets;
uncertainty in the air and I drink to
I still haven't buried my dead promises.
she's there too, the one that stole my
too many years ago, and now is at
to become yet another addition to a long
of broken souls.
another sip, I stare at the same old
drinking despite having to wake up early
in the morning,
once more not giving a fuck about
responsibilities and what not.
drinkingto forget, to remember, to
slow down, to
isolate specific thoughts and stop
aimlessly in the forest of countless
memories hiding within the dense mist.
lips as of yet unkissed,
embraces as of yet not
and it's alright; another beginning,
back into the familiar territories,
and it doesn't feel like it did back
when I first left the streets of childhood behind.
it's never meant to last; soon, under a
bridge I'll fall asleep,
shooting cheap junk, napping under
blankets made of snow,
kissing meth-stained lips only once; and
'cause it's what I know.
one more fix, to remember the
chasing the ever-laughing dragon through
the burning meadow,
and like the child I never was I laugh,
as the memories I never created come
reminding me of an age I
momentary Sanity lost in Blue
I'm thinking about tomorrow
I drink and the world stops making
I inject, forget the purpose, the
travelling through a rainbow of
I want to invite someone over,
cook for them
and do I want to?
the ideal feminine picture, like
and would the master appreciate my art?
I have to drink to suppress the constant
the never-ending contemplation.
friday's coming, a day to drink, to
celebrateto shoot, even though
I'm shooting every day, every hour.
will she say yes? I wonder, and I have
and suddenly, I don't give a
trying to roll a cigarette, unable to
see through the blurriness
of a world that is too bleak and
one more class to attend,
fighting to sit up straight while the
is spinning around its axon way too
and without meaning. the beer runs
through my veins,
my mind lost in constant haze,
I try to breathe, can't draw air in.
only the blue cloud of smoke, a product
of a glass-pipe
stained by other lips, foreign kisses
from another time period,
and I am awake; can't sleep, but I have
to, and I drink to forget.
slowing down time, speeding down the
searching for the prophesized tree.