Restarting? Not possible.

Is creation possible when everything is gone?
They say one can start from scratch, a clean slate... but is it ever clean, is it ever starting from nothing?
I don't think so. Unless you're a newborn, or even in that case I don't think it's possible, because you're always genetically predisposed, you come with a heavy heritage of centuries past.

So restarting is a false concept. It's just to give hope like everything else that humans made up. Restarting is not possible. If it were a game, a mere façade, it would be, because in a game you could create your own rules from the start if the game was truly yours, and who knows you could actually have spare lives too.
In reality the game has long been over when the human species was being formed. For from start we know that life is a long-term suicidal plan and nothing more than that.

To be born and live: I guess when you go on a suicide mission you always tend to overrate your abilities and powers...

What's all the fuss about??

People have this incredible ability to make a fuss out of nothing. Like when it's an end of a year with Christmas and new year's eve and people go all crazy and stressed for something that happens every year and that they forget all about on the other more than 300 days.

They build up events and the correspondent attached anxiety and when it gets to their nerves, in this supposedly season of thanks giving, peace and love, people just take down on others, frequently, in a very violent way, even with members of their own family with whom, in some cases, they didn't speak throughout the whole year.

This whole humanity thing just took the wrong turn in the early beginnings and I guess it was just too easy to blame a fictional serpent and a naked woman.

when I go down crashing and burning
it will turn out to be just fine
because I'll be a shooting star

The lingering light

Turn out the lights,
the flickering annoys
the clarity too bright

and let me hold you
tender and warm
into a dark haze
of endless love.

I could spend years
without  feeling
the same sweetness
and the same despair

but your heart is just too close
much more than I can bare.

I try to close my eyes
and live without you
but everyday you don't resist
neither do I to this mist
of never saying goodbye.

In and About Madness

Every path to the twirly fields of the derranged mind begins with an obsession that has roots in deep childhood trauma.

When the upbringing is conditioned by pressure to excel and prejudice it can undermine the self-esteem and even behead the early development of talent.

To escape the woes of daily life one tends to seek to escape and the instruments to do it. Though these artifices can bring a quite instant getaway they produce states of chemical happiness leading to the unevitable post-euphoria low which is huge depression.

As a result of the consumption and frequency of the evasion objects there's a magnification of whatever comes out as being the object of happiness and slowly it becomes an obsession.

Thus one is set to dwell in the maze of madness with all its tricks and spells. To free yourself from it is impossible if you do not acknowledge everything that happened and that it resulted in  the state of madness. It is surely a harsh process to make the necessary steps and to unravel them.

"The only lesson in life is how to suffer in silence", Van Gogh

Not only about consumerism and religious conventions, Christmas is for elves and middle-aged men who dress as Santa. And of course for parents to cook tons of food (more than they can eat) and then their children take the leftovers to eat at their homes for the next weeks.

Lifeless hairs in a lifeless body
and yet
still waiting for the burst of life

She

Fingers like serpentines
unfolding along her hair
and the image of her eyes
so clear as the sky...

Golden reflections
drawing to her locks
and her beauty reminded
the splendor of Botticelli's Venus,
the luscious innocence kept.

Her embrace was confort and warmth of Spring
in the cold November days.

She was the most beautiful girl
who ever noticed me
and then I didn't feel so bad
anymore,
at least not in those moments.

The mere sight of her renascence prettiness
made my day much brighter.

Everything needs support, otherwise it just crumbles and falls. It's all about gravity...

The truth and nothing but...

People can't stand the truth, otherwise they would be free.

Trees

The trees so sure of themselves,
in the same place for ages and all around everything shatters slowly
with the uncertainty of times
and as the trees stand tall I wonder
what was it all?

Who knows when their roots first penetrated the Earth?
Who knows when their ashes will be blown by the wind?

*in the bus ride to Lagos (31-08-2013)

I think that one of my famous sentences ought to be: I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Inexistency

No victories, no pain, no sorrow
for there's nothing existent
that won't cease tomorrow

And although it might take a while
to end and disappear
you can be sure it's never been

All you see and feel and hear
is nothing but an illusion
in the reality of the Universe

And even when everything seems all
it's just your mind and your body
segregating chemicals within
to ensure its survival

For nothing is, or has become,
just because it never was.

And in being in complete solitude I have become one with the world.

It was invented that the lack of human solidarity was making a white blindness. I'm asking myself whether my daily suffering has turned me white.

The darkness of the night

The dark tones grow slowly in the night
and everything becomes bluish and purplish
just like the dead that are buried six feet under
being slowly devoured by tons of insects.

The moon is shining rays of striking white
but on the earth they do not bestow their light.

Hear your thoughts become louder
and your heartbeat turn deafening
as the wind decided to stroke your hair
your face turned from pale blue to red.

And all the while the animals flee
hiding and seeking shelter in some tree.

Now rises every noise around you
as if they were once oppressed voices
and your blood speeds inside your veins
while your body starts running wild.

Come now wanderer through the night
hope that no wolf will make you fright.

To believe and to not believe*

Olivia: Simone, you have a gift. You can see things that other people can't. I don't doubt that. But wherever you think this gift came from, or whoever you think bestowed it upon you, it's simply an anomaly. I know that because I'm an anomaly. I have moved things with my mind. I've lit things on fire. I've caught bullets mid-air. I've seen things that people only dream about. I've seen... the seams between universes ripped apart. Things that humans shouldn't see. People make up explanations, assign meanings to things without knowing, because it's reassuring, comforting. But I can't do that. Because I know too much. It's all just numbers. And the invaders, as you call them—— they're just better at math than we are.

* in Fringe, 5th series

Dying in this spiral of blood-sweat-&-tears
I rest my soul in your metal heart
and deliver into your hands my charcoal heart

be gentle, don't in the end dust it apart. 

Nothing to lose but the beat of the drum.