A Stream Called Nothing
A stream called: Nothing
It christens me with delirious pleasure
The night’s velvet skin and stars
The dark twilight fading into a deep sense of mystery
And the cold winds blow…
We are trapped in this machine… and this machine is bleeding to death.
The ravens have passed to take what sorrows we spill
And the cold winds howl…
Drop ancient pride like a falling fever on glistening skin
As the hordes dance en masse like candle flames flickering
Bass beats pound to our human hearts
And cold winds descend…
Take heed for the last days are here and they will end
As time bleeds seconds and seconds die into hours
Eaten by the darkness of an uncertain path And the winds of mayhem rise up…
And I wake to live or to die
I shall carry all my love
And burn it in a western blaze
The ultimate shadow in the face of night and the darkness of day
Taking the mask given by stone sculptors
Douse the living fire that is passion… that is glamour
And swallow the pill called hypocrisy
Become a mindless maggot among the thriving throngs
Eating, shitting, living, saying, being nothing
That is what we are destined to be.
***
*Words by Douglas Simoes
*Photograph by Meggin Murphy
Soul Skin
Sometimes when you see people
Characters behind masks behind puppets
You stare deep into their souls
Upon the surface of their soul and beneath
You dip into their very spirit
And without them knowing
You know them
***
Words by Douglas Simoes
Photograph by Meggin Murphy
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