Sick

Sometimes I just need to make sure everything works like a wheel
when you smile I have to tell myself it's something honest
or when I 'm drunk and I have to convince myself to not start a  revolution
even when I'm too high and need to not vanish in my thoughts.
at Those times i need a straitjacket or just a punch in the face
and I 'm truly sorry, I can't hide an smile, easy work
but its really hard to tolerate the need to flee .

I often think of ignorance as an opportunity
but I'm fucking sick of me and my thoughts
I'm already sick of the wheel and of society, and sometimes everything.
I'm tired of taking care of all these memories
I'm sick of not sleeping without killing myself somehow in my thoughts
just smoke enough to kill yourself and do not vomit in the morning.

¿How did I became this kind of being, not functional?
No human at all
Time to sleep or wake up or stand forever.

Sick Dreams

I saw the flesh been too young to preserve
Now every time I look at the past there’s nothing else
Used to look at women as soul mates
Used to fake myself into a friend
Just a walking contradiction deformed by libido
An empty cocoon filled with perversions and lecherous thoughts.

I’ve told myself to keep walking and get over it
I know I’m trying to fool myself
Every time I find some appreciation for my sick been
I need to rape it to the core, to the memory, to the sickness.

Every kiss hurts deeper into the wounds
Every touch from your body against mine drying tears from memories
Every ejaculation makes me want to kill myself.
At this point I look at myself as a sick erratic piece of man
Divided between my instinct of pure hedonism
And the human propose the domination of placebos
Sometimes even the dream of not abuse another girl.