The last sunset 

A breath that lives

A mother’s kiss printed on your forehead

farewells into the open sea

A sailor’s oath 

Hands printed into the wood,

and feet anchored in the deep waters

The curse of the black chest

You swim with the snakes,

and despoil with the wolves

You eat with the strangers,

and fight besides your brothers

The vanity

The Gold and wine

The withering pleasures of flesh, 

The molten statues of youth

Dusted, and ruining

With the sea’s song along a soft tide,

You catch the last sunset

A mother’s smile 

As you drown,


into the oblivion 



Filth stenches
Air cold
Whiskers weighed,
By the tiny pearls of a mountain dew
Tramples heavy feet on a bare rock

If the path of a soul is a lost one,
Purpose is to gods
And wondering is to the moon
Across a dark sky,
Searching rays of the morning star

The peak is a horizon
Moving it’s walls as one strides closer
Caught in a bubble of life,
Life a movie
Playing along a runtime

A gunslinger

A darkness engulfs my heart
Devouring it’s fibers
One big chunk at time

Am lost of a soul,
But a wondering spirit,
With a decaying body

I hate to love,
Love to kill,
And kill for joy

I make bed in a den,
Where my head rests on skulls
Drowning in this pool of a nightmare

A young maiden,
With fair skin

Long dark hair
In a wooden bath

She smells of roses,
Standing within a flaring curtain
White, and lucid

She drips of innocence
Walking unto me
On the oak floor

She leaves tiny prints
Of her virgin feet,
Towards a canopy bed

Where white sheets fall
Like a stream onto the floor
With dotted petals of red

She climbs unruffled,
With a cordial smile
But salacious stare

Crawling slowly
To find my lips,
Kissing lightly

Feeling her cold,
Tingle my warm skin,
About the loins

Before laying gently
Her head on my chest
My hand about her shoulder

Humming to a heart’s beat
The hymn of the fallen ones
The tale of a blood brother


The final day of judgment (Pompeii)


Dark clouds fast-flying

Red, gray and black fog

Raining rocks with flames

Burning flesh and bones

Singing the song of the dead

Long, loud and scary

Like it was a lake of fire

Filled with amorphous silhouettes


The ground shook so hard

Bursting up randomly, so rough

Tearing down the stone walls,

The mighty pillars of the arena,

Deep, long running cracks,

Sinking with it the history of city,

Bearing names of the legends

The brave gladiators of Pompeii


To see and not hope,

To fear and not be scared,

But rather live on the last day

Stealing every second there is

While battling the angel of death

Bringing with him the wrath of gods

And taking as many souls possible

On the final day of judgment


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