Cough inside the head

have I learn anything from this trembling that shook the tremor out of me? To read the subliminal thoughts and hidden messages that spread troughout my veins? The pale color of my masochistic fiesta, runs like cheap stocking that I wear to hid my real countenance. I greet thee welcome o sorrow of the gloomy heart. Why does the quest only spread to catch more and mere questions? So sunk me in again in soliloquy, kinky, like Ike when he hits Turner on the face like a ramshack. I know I should and I could yet I still would.. Not. Now there's a statement of a lame feet. Afar from real goal, aside from mentions. So where does all this neglectments went, o man with wench tits?

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Humaine brain: no limitz!

why there's a spot for the spotless? Because everyone's too aware for themself. And to prove that, try have as many followers you can gather, and sooner or later your senses are growing more acute to the sound of soundless tambourinas. No longer spake any taboo, no more glitch on typhos, and hence: you started to write burden with your thumb. You started to feel that you are no longer mortal. You feel like you're a naivette angel fought on the highest level of mortal kombat with the lowest form of avatars.

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The burntdown of sass

There's a gap in our horizon
No welcoming doormats
Swords are no pen and vice versa
So why those pages still burned to dust?

There's fear in lonely caves
And who's the cavemen?
The doors are shut and locked
Guarded by two smoking barrels
The windows are smashed
Thrown by stones of the stonehenges' mind.

There's a price for certainty in life
No thoughts, no dreams, turns are forbidden
And we learn as we get along
That no peace could stay for long.

**
--Udo. Late 2007--

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