andresitorresm

i. I detest the smell of wet dirt and white lilies on a sunday afternoon because they remind me of Death and his friends and they're not the cool kids on the block that I wanna be involved with. ii. my poetry reeks of unrequited love and cosmic kisses but I can’t help but wonder if one day I’ll put my money where my mouth is and make those words come true. iii. from the day I was born till the day I die I’ll have iron clad chains shackled to my ankles and a noose made of dollar bills wrapped around my neck. iv. sometimes I wish I had a crystal ball so that I could see the path ahead of me because sometimes

Maybe Lovecraft was right, As laying awake I shiver, The invisible beastly faces, That leer, unknowable, in the night. He who said that the greatest sensation Was that screaming terror that surrounds Humans in the coal-black places As they know they have no control over creation. And while the good lie asleep in bed, The sorcerers who were hidden escape, Praising Gods beyond the soul’s capability, To understand, as to be saved is to be lead. While those who froth in madness scream, Of things that were beyond their understanding, Their dead eyes glaring back the reflections of eternity And they know that nothing is as it sh