I turn the pages of my notebook
dressed as a Harlequin ,
where dishevelled lines gallop ,
harnessed to the chariot of my madness
-so far from gentleness...
Letters shaped like inner daggers .
Ilusive ideograms drifting toward
a dying star for all eternity ...
Illusions etched onto dead loves
barely out of the nest ,
ink-colored flesh ,washed ashore
in a cluster of lunar seaweeds ...
This aesthetics of a still life
that aspires to metamorphosis...
Painting from the depths ,
where navigates the torment
of the unfinished ...
I, child of Mercury who improvises preludes.
Lost in digital forests regrowing
upon skin-deep fires ...
My emotions as a reclusive writter ,trapped
in a memory without walls ...
My hieroglyphs break free ,
running through the streets ,
in quest of a carnal chill inspiration ...
I sublimate my creation
into carnival-like incantations !
Place of worship, where ghostly fingers
play eerie gymnopédies on a cursed organ...
Rebellious scripture heals the silence
of the broken childhood .
But this inner alphabetical maze scares me ...
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Online) - Published: September 2nd, 2026 11:03
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Online)
Comments2
I was scared too by the hieroglyphics of scripture that only the learned could interpret. Later I found it was just pig Latin invented by old men. Well done Lorenz
Ayay uetray alarschay ustmay ekspay igpay atinlay !
fine write friend
My notebooks are true hypersurrealist masterpieces !
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