To the whispers inside my head.

In my feeble mind
We can be one
We can be one and so many
So many of us aligned
And in our rage
And in my guts
There's the reign
Of all that's dust

In my weak heart
We can be one
We can be none and not any
We can survive
Match the despair
Carved on our hearts
Scream the disturbed
Parts of our arts

I got the rage
Oh the dear rage
The will to live
The will to bend
The crashing spite
The howling mess
I am one
And so many
I am the one and not any
Of my disguises
Are reality

In my weak mind
Where you survive
You're the fuel
Of my demise
The very soul
Of my charade
Each one of you
Breathing in me

In my feeble heart
Where I feed you
You are the ones
That makes me mad
We are the ones
I am not sane
And I'm spitting
A universe

You're my blood
We are the one
I'm the mud
You're the divine
And I feed you
To feel the sky

(ok well. Writing is like being pregnant of an universe. And. Sometimes. I feel so full of stars I could throw up galaxies. My characters are the bones of my body. I feel them living inside. It's maddening. But without their voices I would be no better than dead.)

(Really I don't know why I bother writing these words here. It's 5am. And no one care. And it's good. I'm just here to protect my texts with the international copyright policy and hide them here before the publishing. So ... Yeah. Whoever reads that. If you managed to read and understand. I wish you a very very good luck. Whatever you're creating it's important. It's good. It's valid if it's from the heart. Words have a ringing that.)) screams. In the intricate lines of the framing of your sentences, we can see light can sometimes defy languages. Well all of you smartasses write in damned kanjis and i'll smite my eyes trying to read them but ... Stilll. Keep going. Keep writing. Please. Keep. Doing. Art. It matters.)