Black butterflies in the stomach,
blue feelings up and down,
they go somewhere in the purple.
Shades that come from wings that don't fly,
emotions stagnate,
psychological distortions,
mental allusions,
immortal threads.
Do you know that the flames sleep inside the dark ash
that paints the bodies that dance in the Sufi circle?
Return to Draconian breath,
remember what can be fragmented without breaking.
Volcanoes are already breaking up the lands,
already the dance of the heart becomes a quantitative science.
I have opened an electromagnetic field,
you can become a tiny boson to open yourself to dust wings.
A drop of light advances in the hourglass of time,
like a tiny dust fills the horizon,
I walk and I'm barefoot in the sea,
together with my black butterflies.
I'm inside your room, I see the thread of dreams that pervades you,
I'm barefoot and I'm starting to tremble,
I'm starting to fade into the pixels of your mind.
I feel the heat, the pain,
the wings growing too big to stand still,
I abandon all footing,
I can't get dark again.
An innocence stained by a dark past. I can still hear the devil whispering wicked advice into my ear. My heart gradually became corrupted until it became a black hole. All that remains of me is a ravenous monster, haunted by a visceral desire to harm someone. The stomach quivers, eager to taste the taste of blood. The hands tremble with a knife, while gently brushing the delicate skin with the sharp blade, fully enjoying every moment. The cries of pain are music to my ears; an intoxicating melody that inhibits the senses. It is an iniquitous and malicious gesture, the fruit of a mind devoid of sense and a soul infected by the evil one. It takes little to shatter such fragile bones. With one creak after another I reduce you to dust, a putrid mass of dreams and hopes shattered under the weight of my shoes. There are those who would hope for a faster death, but you beg for torment; the more harm I inflict on you the more you ask for and I gladly grant you an atrocious end, because it wouldn’t be fun if you finished too quickly. Ah, the harm I could do to you if I only wanted to. In this sensitive and naive world it is so easy to break such a delicate heart. But the part of you that is dying is only your innocence, because soon you will become like me: a vicious creature, stirred up by a blind rage to bring about extermination and desolation. How sweet is the taste of death on my lips, it is a kiss of Judas what I give you. I reach you with the promise of a love, but the gift you will get will be only that of regret.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 