Perfume

"He still had enough perfume left to enslave the whole world if he so chose. He could walk to Versailles and have the king kiss his feet. He could write the pope a perfumed letter and reveal himself as the new Messiah. He could do all this, and more, if he wanted to. He possessed a power stronger than the power of money, or terror, or death - the invincible power to command the love of man kind. There was only one thing the perfume could not do. It could not turn him into a person who could love and be loved like everyone else. So, to hell with it he thought. To hell with the world. With the perfume. With himself."


- Perfume: The Story of a Murderer 

The spark of life has blown her away.
Live because she was born to live. 
Exist because she was created to exist. 
Death come slowly, take your time. 
Waiting here with stiff skin and broken hair. 
Energy patterns like multicolored lights.
Last night's dream of a dead puppy,
blood oozing from its neck. 
The path of needles or the path of pins?
She felt its death so vivid there within her palms.
Paranoia with relaxation,
hatred with love. 
Wielding inertia. Civilized to savagery.   
Questions preferred without answers. 
A moment's thought.
That is gone,
vanished. 
Forgotten. Remembered. Forgotten.
Subconscious effect of awakening. 

Solitude

A remote chill woke him

surrounded by an obscure atmosphere,

bewildered by an inner fear.

He felt himself in a dream

between sleep and awake;

where his horrors and his fears

combine into one greater sphere. 

He stood against the dreary passage

that called to him in a profound undertone.

Through his skin crept a glorious devastation

a persistent suffocation.

Seeking amity he took the long obscure path

that seemed to devour him. 

Frightened by the mere echo of his cries

wishing to find himself in this puzzling maze,

he searched in vain. 

A restless fear that grew louder by the minute

brought him to his knees. 

Within the vast obscurity of his solitude 

he yearned, aspired companionship. 

Just as he felt the solid grip of madness

and the final overthrow of helplessness;

a harmony enveloped him. 

He sighed away a revelation of truth, 

a comprehension of reality. 

He accepted his fate and peace

as the sole and final end of his existence. 

And the obscure atmosphere 

that once shook him, 

welcomed him back home.  

Alone

From childhood's hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From the same source I have not taken My sorrow; I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone; And all I loved, I loved alone. Then- in my childhood, in the dawn Of a most stormy life was drawn From every depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still: From the torrent, or the fountain, From the red cliff of the mountain, From the sun that round me rolled In its autumn tint of gold, From the lightning in the sky As it passed me flying by, From the thunder and the storm, And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view.  - Edgar Allan Poe

I Am Painted

The color is thick and obscure

showered by this imperfection.

It penetrates through my skin,

it dwells within myself. 

It's unnatural, it's disease!

My defenses are restrained. 

This infestation glorifies

upon my being.

It punctures and humiliates,

I am painted. 

I purge in this rotten mixture

I gasp for breath, 

a short moment of release

but I drown further below

condemning me for ever trying. 

It slowly takes every vital breath.

When every moment seems like eternity

and I am left a stranger,

no longer myself

I am painted.

Gypsy

With the white light of the moon

and the warm sands upon my face

I remember you

I remember the essence of your presence

the chilling of your stare

the light darkness of your skin

true child of ancient deserts

Green jewels in your eyes

dark shadows under them

Garments flowing in the distant winds

this is how I remember you

like the sun

like the desert 

and the wind

like my heart

like my love

Quote:

"We are the music makers and we are the dreamers of dreams."


 - Willy Wonka

Poge

There is so much oxygen in the Earth
and I could only take one breath.
There are a million miles ahead of me
and I can only take one step.
There's an atmosphere if air
but only one wind passes through me.
There are million trillion gallons of water
but only one drop falls through me.
There are thousands to say
but only one word will come from me...

...and somehow... it's enough.

Nine Inch Nails Film Festival

This is my own submission for the film festival that I did in 2008. I don't know what's going on with the festival but I am currently working on another experimental video as a submission or simply to share on Youtube. 

A Dream

- = Me           > = A godly fathomless creature

- Who are you?

> You have forgotten who you are and we have come to take you out of your world. You have succumbed into this world long enough, you are lost now.

- I don't understand

> Of course you don't. Even this form of communication is yours, a complicated language to put all that must be said in words.

- Are you God?

> No. You invented god.

- What do you mean that I created all this? I am only a human being!

> That is where you are lost. Your world is beautiful but its beauty has lured you, you made it with such details that you believe they are real.

- Then who am I?

> You are one of us. We are the universe. We create worlds out of our image. Our thoughts can be made solid. You see that wood and stone? You imagined it therefore it is. No other creature like us has created the things you have.

- But what about history and time?

> Inexistent

- Do you have your own world then?

> Yes

- And it's nothing like this?

> No. all our worlds are different. Mine has no atmospheres such as this. It does not consist of shapes or gravity. This can be complicated for you to understand.

- If I am like you how did it come about that I have all the aspects of a human being?

> You wanted it to happen but it cannot be. When you realize who you are you will no longer have the attachment of a human body.

- Then if not this then what is our purpose?

> To create worlds and have one day create the real world by the great one.

- So there is a God?

> In your terms yes but for us it's hardly a god. In your understanding we end up being God.

- So why come in my dreams?

> You believe in all this so much that you would have thought you died and it would take longer to bring you back.

- What about ghosts, apparitions, insanity? Everything else in this world?

> We have been trying to reach you through other ways and the only way we found was through your dreaming.

- To me Earth has been here for millions of years but how long have I been here?

> Time does not exist for we are everlasting. It can be a millisecond to make billions of years or billions of years to create a millisecond. 

- So when I depart from here will all this be destroyed?

> How can something be destroyed when it does not exist?

- Is there good or evil in our existence?

> No. there is no necessity.

- What is the point of a world without feeling or end?

> You say that because you are overwhelmed with emotion. That was the sole purpose of this world but each world has a different purpose. 

- What about pain, despair, war?

> You needed something to look forward to. All this is also hope, prosperity, change. It’s a balance of things. Good comes from evil and evil comes from good.

- What if I am just mad and I don't know? Is there such a thing as madness?

> No. The people you consider to be mad or insane are the ones you've told the truth. What you call sane are the ones who you've blinded. 

- Why do you bother with me? Why don't you ask me anything?

> I know everything. Just as I know how this conversation began I know exactly how it will end. Everything you create comes from our existence we just expand it; only here there are no condemnations.

- How do I know that this isn't the real world?

> You don't.

Note: I had this dream when I was sixteen. When I awoke I quickly wrote down what I remembered and this was the result.