swaninalakewannabe

[swaninalakewannabe]

Only you can be found

I write to you in a hotel room, because I don't see you. But, when i close my eyes, inside me I stumble upon you all the time. If your mouth closes, My heart whispers to me, anxious. Now, when you smile, I am the one who rejoices. And if the pain brings you agony, The shiver comes over me. Oh, I hear about you, here inside. Even against my will. And they are beautiful things, Like everything that is yours. I love you.

(All original work)

[swaninalakewannabe]

[swaninalakewannabe]

This can be a religious or atheist text, you decide

Whoever imposes guilt and sin is neither God or the world, It's you, consuming yourself and peeling away your truths.

Say your prayers or the guilt will eat away at the bones of your hot and burning skin. Which is the real hell you fear so much.

Sinners in the flesh, always living by death: So, let them open the gates of paradise to the fools.

God appeared to them in a dream. He called them disappointments and pathetic. So they told him that them only know how to dream and pray, lying and putting under the rug all the evil and the lamb's head. But you keep thinking he forgave them like a dog that forgets its master's blows?

In the end, I understand the human being: It is easier to believe that we belong to a merciless old white man than to something much more cruel and dangerous, ourselves.

In the end, I also understand God: He preached forgiveness, but he raised hell just in case. I would do that too if my creation were as impure and mean as we are.

— But, oh god, you preached free will under your own laws. You created inedible fruits and imbebibles truths. What can we do?

(All original work)

[swaninalakewannabe]

[swaninalakewannabe]

Of meat, bones and blood

The walls of my room watched me. They enjoyed me opening my skull with nails, turn my stomach, bite my own tongue, they watched the red in my skin.

And I also stared back, as if I were going to find some peace in that whiteness. I didn't know if I was scared or welcomed for the idea of ​​one day being so cold and pale and quiet as this smooth immensity in front of me.

But since I'm unfortunately human, mouth open, I will remain silent so as not to feel jealous of bricks that, like a sordid trick, live around in the blissful ignorance of observe, not talk, not pretend, not be.

(Me describing my hatred for myself and humanity in general, but you can also call it depression)

Authorial

[swaninalakewannabe]

Not a face reveal but this is kinda what i look like