[In The Outline]

(A text about the city of London)

Pieces of you stare back from the remains of a broken mirror.

Naked feet, patterned shards of shiny glass adorn the cold-tiled floor

Cool splashing, swirling darkness, fading hopes, harsh reality; in quest of a shore,

A tempest in my mind tries to decipher which one to crash on; which one is nearer

And you have got wide, beautiful eyes

of monochromatic truth and lies

I will wander these labyrinth streets, trying to hide; for when their music distreams,

I need to find the perfect drug to pull me further from them and closer to my dreams

When in a scrawl, I dismantle the very whole:

beats out chameleon heart; drinking itself out in an hole in the wall;

pedestrians pass it by everyday with much less than a glance,

and even if they did look, the spite would not make much a difference...

from this grim Tower of Babel I want to fall;

I want to fall! Hit the Channel and loose my soul.

Alienating pilled-up theorics

stand above me, tall and majestic.

pick n' choose:

Follow the templar of faith

or

Follow the template of far.

I'm lost in your rhetorics;

I'm lost in you:

a city smiling to me with chemical logic.

And this has all become so fake, so plastic,

in and out so mechanical,

that kisses taste like metal.

Schizophrenic machinery

It cries tears that hold no meaning.

Forget innocence, smeared are memories of scratched knees days.

Still I find, barely lit, in dead-end alleys,

50% off on bruised, used bodies - that is, if you've brought with you some candy.

Always useful: they too, can make love beautiful through mists so blurry.

A deluge of streetlight,

neon signs and other illuminations, so bright

enter the room, transcend the glass, and refract into bizarre angles, into my bewildered eyes.

Reverie or memory?

3-D blasphemy

in a corner holds together my inert form;

In the outline, you hold me.

With your empty eyes that nothing can mend;

With your empty hand shaking with goodbyes;

With your empty skull scorched from this redundant bore;

and with your dry mouth that doesn't know a single name to call out for.