born again slowly,
as bonded at its core, slowly drew back
fetal position,
covering every corner of my soul in the form of paralysis
monstrous.
The magician knows his mission:
advance to the body, disarming tremors,
get rid of the shadows of madness.
I've seen, like Ezekiel,
storms and fabulous beings on the edge of my bed, I've seen ashes
chips over hot coals to one spell
an inaudible beat,
have discovered, as Lovecraft,
the mantra that vibrates from subwoofer the deep night
persuading the final loss of his romantic picture,
order to embrace hordes of fever.
I will not succumb to the shadow.
I will not let the epitaph.
There is in my eyes a Dawn unusual biform
a path opened by lighting
forces
to hunt down the enemy. A sword
lights, hot and perfect in my hands
perpetrating the heat of victory.
Leviathan
A light on me,
stopping evil,
with hellfire itself.
Perhaps the strongest enemy, whatever it is born within us. After many wanderings dream to debug my ways, I open my book of yesterdays to watch, not without amazement, many unexpected today.
I'm still in the race. The poem, undoubtedly outlined the same idea expressed in steel, blood and victory only the mobile side, the situational element of its inspiration, was another.
now the primary mobile was the same.
Fear, as an entity, desmecaniza even the simplest processes of self.
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