Dragged from the mother's womb,
fallen from the father's piggyback,
the world filled him up with this rage
that eventually will make him undone.

 Who are you when no one is looking? You've had a lot of love made of flesh and forgot to strengthen the bone, now in the sum of your life you see your reflection in the mirror and it's just a self-portrait of sad and alone. 
Old man, turned 98, you didn't win the lottery neither died the next day.

Can you grab the mist and shape it with your hollowed hands?
Can you ever really mend a broken a heart?
I don't need to wake up tomorrow.
I've got nowhere to go.
I haven't got someone expecting me.
There's no one depending on me.
No one misses me terribly.
My voice isn't someone's favorite sound.

Can you really mend a broken heart
that is always being broken again and again
by the hands of indifference and abandonment?

I had nothing to do. Only what others expected me to.
Society decided for me way long before I was born.
I didn't grab the mist, turns out my hands where always hollow. 

 You forgot how in only one dawn of our whole lives we saw each other, and told and did not tell everything there was to know of our beings. No mysteries were left but mystery itself. You forgot how you had never seen me before and yet you sheltered me from the ruthless cold of the urban jungle of terrors' icy night. Your in-building home and another rescued animal. From a naked street bench to a fluffy nest bench created by you for me. So much generous tenderness you gave to us rescued, it almost made our abandonments distant. You forgot how you presented me the biggest gift in that year, a couple of years back, the song of thousands of synchronized swallows in the bright lighting emerging free, Aurora, because if there's one thing that can creep into you is dawn, but not then, for then was the crystal dawn.

There is someone searching for you
There is someone waiting for you
Though you probably will never meet 
Know that your connection is the most deep.

Joy Division - Unseen Lyrics Of Ian Curtis

 I walked out and thought for a time I could see no defense, and I thought for a while you were me, we were wrong, in our time, always down, out of line. I relaxed from the days filled with bloodsport in vain, and returned with the knowledge that we're two the same, two in Hell, two set free, too alike, you to me.

And we watched everything pass us by in due course, always tied by a mutual feeling that lost, we were two, two in hell, two set free, known too well. In the back of my mind, all I feel is mistrust, in the back of my mind, all I see is the dirt, segregation of thoughts, ideals turning to dust.

Where some houses once stood, stands a man with a gun, in some neighbourhood, a father hangs up his son, in the back of my mind.

Don't think I'd have stayed just for one more day, it seems so much like home, no room to go astray, don't think I could watch - with mindless, empty tasks, intake moving in, forced to walk a lonely path.

Pictures all around, of how good a life should be, a model for the rest, that bred insecurity, I walked a jagged line and then came back for more, it's always in my mind, an institution with no law.

I can see a thousand wills just bending in the night. And all the pretty faces painted grey to match the sky, from a distance seeing friends just washed up on the shore, a picture in my mind of what's to come before the storm.

In time, we don't belong in our own lifetime. I can hear the voices lost in echoes as they build, new homes to hide the sadness that the search for more had killed, from a by road seeing friends just washed up on the shore.

Picture in my mind of what's to come before the storm.

In time, we don't belong in our own lifetime. I can feel an emptiness and see heads held in shame, trapped inside a legacy of everyone to blame.

In the distance see myself just washed up on the shore, a picture in my mind of what will come before the storm. In time, we don't belong to our own lifetime.

We won't crawl and never show our faces, we'll stand firm and never show the traces, of the fear we knew but always could disguise, of this sinking feeling hid behind our eyes. Nothing seems real anymore.

Even the flames from the fire seem to beckon to me, drawing me into some great past life buried somewhere deep in my subconscious, if only I could find the key..if only..if only. Ever since my illness, my condition, I've been trying to find some logical way of passing my time, of justifying a means to an end. He desires love, in some special way against all perversion, fed with fruits of decay.

He remembers, how the guilty have seen, all the pure but selfish, buried deep in his dreams. He sees a vision in the sky, looking down on him, calling him by name, yeah he sees faces from yesterday, of what might have been, but the past must still remain. He desires love, not some perfect affair, in hotels of steel and glass, just to cross on the stairs, but he can still see, all the angels in time, as his dreams of ecstasy, turned to nightmares of crime. He sees a vision in the sky, looking down at him, how the past will remain, yeah he sees a vision in the sky, staring down at him, he'll always see the same. Sure I'll see you down, you do for me I did for you, cure just takes you down, we're down for good that's understood.

Door slides open, Johnny laughs. A view from above sticks his head out of the window and dries his eyes. I remember a winter sometime ago, angular patterns formed deep in the ground, where someone once stood. White on black, white on white. Echoed voices bouncing off the buildings around. A ramp to the trees and trees all around, I remember a tear, frozen white on white, I remember nothing.

A grey saloon, Johnny sighs, winds down the window and stares at the road. Some things never make sense, crouches shivering in the corner, blanket 'round your shoulder, hot then cold, cold then warm, pulse is racing, slowly racing - stopped. I remember nights listening to until dawn, I remember nothing. Some things never make sense, a fear of stepping out, Door slowly opens, Johnny sits on his bed, lays down and dies.
A wider alliance that leads to new roads beyond the limits, holding hands, jumping off walls into dark seclusion, cut off from the mainstream of most intimate yearnings, I left my heart somewhere on the other side, I left all desire for good. Clinging to naked thought, impossible tactics worked out for impossible means. This is the final moment of respite. The final page in the book. A bitter challenge between old and new, with one last warning.

All of me is death, from up to bottom: the lifeless hairs, twisted, that no longer yield to gravity as should all existing things on this earth; the dried up chest, the lines and wrinkles on the belly, the arid deserted sides of the buttocks, the shrivelled skin that no longer feels like living and the dark grey veins that stopped pulsating a long time ago.
I am the dead man.

What you see is what you are: reach out and touch your reflection.

I'm losing you all: each finger, each hair, each nail.
Woman, woman, woman, what's up with you now?
Well the priest has come to bless you and the nun has come to smile at you.

Stop picking your eyes, or they're gonna fall too.

You're all legs now and they've gone away.

 I remember when we were from the deepest sea, from the darkest corner of the ocean floor, the resistant starfish feeding all the time. 
I remember when millennia afterwards, feet on the ground, we became almighty rockstars that thought of changing the world. 
Somewhere along the path we lost our memories of when we were eagles flying above the sky. And the obscurity of tomorrow never brings more than you can see with an eye.

(in 2017)