Likes?

I can’t take a picture
without think about
it’s a moment or a “like”
that I want to capture?
In a search for a rapture
a lot of filters, angles and ideas
seconds, minutes or even hours missed
to one snap without meaning
“likes”, shares and a strange feeling
“It’s me or this fake moment
that people want?”

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Frydate

I know that in this night
I will sleep a little less
but I must confess
with this “misfits”
we have no limits
I can laugh
and I be proud
of being part of this split
our “frydate” party

CYF

A mouth without any teeth
a eyes that can’t see
ears that listen only their own breath
mournings in forms of void
can you feel it?
can you fell in it?
Sharp like shark teeths
you point the fingers and set your deeds
even if this or that won’t deserve mention
a word don’t have the same importance than action
can’t you feel it?
can’t you fell into it?
Satisfaction
in addition
another contradiction
you feel it?
you fell on it?

Many DENs

Denial
insidious sparkles of detrimental moments of trial
we arrange the rearrange of our laments
to find ourselves complacents
like the dead petal from a dirt rose
like a petal that finds peace in a concrete
dead like these beauty lines, dead like these irrational rhymes
No denial
give me one more dose
of the oldest tears that I commited to hide and fail to keep
this singular promise that I promise that won’t found a purpose
isn’t so pretty like that rose
but it’s all that I have to give and you just spit in it
spit, stomp, rip, give, chop, slain, scream!
This is the oddity of the beauty
lines that don’t give a chance to breath
like this hands around my neck
it’s me or it’s your hands? What’s gonna be?
Suicide or homicide?
Deny, Deny, and begin to cry
looks like the rose finally will find
something rotten to fed her post life

Dance with…

We dance, yes we dance
a ode to our misery
we give the crown to a false king
we pray for a death of our queen
anarchy, lonely anarchy
sing with me, about this moment that we live
“a paradise full of empty things
a warmful hug that we can’t feel, can’t you see?”
all this lines isn’t about me
this lines set perfectly
to your own catharsis

Mean

Doesn’t matter
the colour of your skin
our eyes are committed
all we see is sin, all we see is sin
even if we try our best, being better
it’s another sin that we commit
we be embraced
by the luxury, the certain of corruption
addicted in a kind of perfection
that’s so clean, also, so mean