Mysterious and Strange

Why should an end, become a beginning.
What should we do, when there’s nothing left to do.
In the stairs we were found, under unravelled curtains, something happens that determines our way of thinking and fighting.
In a strange story, in a great circle with Ouroborous eating its tail, while a pattern being formed and everything is happening quite fast, the circle moves and something comes behind doors and stairs, which open windows, that should be closed.
As the needle pricks, as the lighter lights.
Everything in it’s right place, smoke everywhere the mystery is unbearable, the bear left its skin and changes quickly, when there’s too much to see and feel, the fangs penetrate you.
Spell’s made. 

Bats flying in circles, Ourobouros eating its tail and everything seems what it is.
Cloudless nights, rainy days, a feeling of storm invades your body and soul and the need is stronger than the reason.
Psychological vampires take form spread their wings and enter in our caves.
Where’s the blood?
Where’s the strength?
Addicted trying to cleanse one’s body and soul.
Symbols have its meanings, the night holds me and another one is sucking me.
Your essence and the true meaning behind words are found in the shelves.
Red’s the colour, and blue the mood, yellow is what it seems.
I want to end some days, to finish despair, counting to none.
Counting hours, seconds and minutes, we’re there.
Feeling bathed in one’s glory, immersed in roses,
The strange appears asks me for light, I give it away and he tries to find glory, in one smoke.
Doubts, remaining and strange appearances, a dance under candles, a hot tea and something to rely on.

A journey’s made an aching headache, and some troubled spirits that led its way towards the imagination, in a café, in a room.
Music’s chasing la belle, yellow right.
Lights out!!!!! 

Lights out!!!!!!
Listen to the birds, hear the sparrows and enjoy yourself in the solitude of your thoughts, give away, take, steal, suck.
Climb over trees, find a net.
Call the services, they’re opened, its space is wide and beautiful.
Leaves on the floor and the sound of smashing, the sound of the ocean and silence. 

Complete silence.
Infiltrate in the atmosphere, see one through one’s eyes and try to find what’s going on, where’s the oasis, where’s food, where’s thoughts and perhaps, life is still a dream and we must awake quickly otherwise king Morpheus appears and sing us a song.
Probably Bacchus gives a cup of wine and Medusa cuts her hair up, to bless you with thoughts. Prometheus gives you its flame, and everything begins and ends as Ourobouros and its tail.
In the vastness of dreaming, wakes and nightmares can be found, books are unwritten, or perhaps written and thrown away.
The blades on my hand, the sugar is with you, as Thor awakes, the hammer’s there and Solomon mines aren’t anywhere.
Together or in communion the air is tight, the stakes are high, the fear makes it’s lost ones.
In the window, in the stars, the rain appears, the wine disappears and softness everywhere.
Sinclair keep us lost in London and Moore starts giving its insight over the procession of mankind.
Kafka’s don’t fit, he’s fearful.
Huxley gives us a brave new world, while Bittova sings as Orpheus, yin and yang.
An evil side, a good one, where’s the glory?
Les infants chanting et tu t’amuses and then fall asleep, collapse and find a solace in one’s arms.
Machines breaking, the naked is exposed, raw and tenderness fails.
Start to cook or be cooked.
Find something raw, and give it light.
Loss to gain, stories to tell and somebody, whistle to me.
I wake up and found you, you aren’t there.
Cymbals falls and something starts to keep you posted.
Good to talk give or take.
Meaning is for thou.
Listen to the bells they are tolling for thee.