Hostel tigri pays back

Your words flipped my eyes
toward who I´m
whitout my dreams,
and fantasies failing to conform.

Emptiness.

You pinched my last thick chord,
it plays only despair.

I´m infinite vibrating sadness,
and you´ve heard my cry.

I´ll always hear that deep note
on the back of my mind.

And Thank you,

Hostel Tigri plays Back again.

A Big grit of Madness Posted to Hell

Roaring burst of flames, screams devour the ears of the living ones, brown and red, a scarlet orgiastic flood of fighting bodies, and us, the regnants.
Us prevailing.
Shedding meaningless souls, inflicting simple perfect cuts, like amazed sadistic childrens descovering new rainbows trough the open livers of a hundred imploring mens.
Just us, you, naked and hypnotized rocking back and forth that long thin knife, so many lifes you´ve stolen for the sake of Victory, how can your blade still gleaming, so pure and white?
At each unperceivable glance a man falls; and your lips curve, in discrete lust.
I keep slaughtering, jealous of the man that pleased you in the instant of his fall, I look sad and ragefull back in your eyes checking my reflection, hoping madness will not steal my fire. You stare back trough me, sweet reassuring, you kill a young boy kneed in armless pray wearing neither pity nor concern, but for me and my jealousy.
There is just the two of us in this boiling war, in this rumbling game where players wear either red or death, no rush you show keeping that pale thin walk. I spinn my fists and weapons in exploding gracious moves, twisting necks and smashing skulls, cutting troaths and spilling souls, to impress you: fanatic addict suiciding for my Qeen. Each fiber of my muscles flex to you, my Mistress.
I sacrifice each victims to your immortality, judgement or laugh as long as your attentions focuses onto me, for a moment, and nothing else.
Joker Warrior Slave of Love I´m, and nothing else my God.

Is fear the sick face of desire? are they both superfluous?
The animal in me rises, wants it´s share of suicidal banging his head against something solid.
Scream you beast and flex to destroy.
Is there a lack of acceptation? Can you be loved if you dont play right?
You cannot be loved for what you are, you can be loved for the rituals you enact in the best stereotyped way, where creativity hides deeper need to conform, mating rituals between actors,rituals of fairness and galateo, the ancient lines of good business.
Is love at the end a system? what are we craving for?
To me this spiritual terminology made of awakening,compassion,universal,evolution,pray, light wisdom and joy is forced.
M I but a believer as anyone else, failing acceptation and plaing my part everyday. I haven´t been trough the ultimate and I pretend I have been killed a million times, I play like understanding the responsibility that the universe has put on my shoulders, but at the end I´m unable to fill up the content of this destiny as everyone else. and the world spinns and wI kill precious questions in a blink.
You arose the beast in me and it´s probably a good thing reminding me that I don´t understand why I get so Mad.
What m I supposed to do?
Go to Bed earlier?
Eat healty?
Don´t take grass?
Don´t cheat
make love?
Have friends?
Study german?
Go to UnI
Grow up?
What is it?
I´m trying......not hard enough?. What´s this restlessnes?
And why m I sharing the mood of an entire population?
What´s this pissed off tiger ready to splitt your head
or his own.
Why?
Why?
What does it mean? M I asking the wrong questions?
Is it my fear speaking? shall I put a price tag on my head, offer on E-bay and see how many bidders are out there for the Italian slave?
M I asking for love? admiration? Fame? Money? do I play the same vain games of a Boyband? Aren´t you too?
There is a card in the Tarocchi.
The hanged man, an enlightened Hero accepting the fork, Jesus, this is my game, can mankind play it twice and still be right? Is this our game?

I´m sure there will be a day, and I´ll be about thirty, where the game will have gotten so complex that everyone will simply forget how to play. There our deams will glue to reality and each human beeing will be eager to stand up and live a new morning.