why

I love being different.

But I hate being misunderstood.

Even the people I trusted,

my friends, they didn't undesrstand me.

I don't easily give my trust to anyone, mind you.

A single mistake will make you

the most avoidable person in the

entire fuckin' universe.

A single mistake to a single person...

everybody avoids you.

A single honest mistake...

everything good you've done,

they will put into trash.

And no one will remember you.

No one will appreciate you.

Nobody will, but yourself.

I hate myself for being careless and anxious at times.

I don't blame people for hating me either.

I love being different.

But, crap, I hate being misunderstood.

Always misunderstood.

It makes me sad.

Band Practice Session - Sitting, Waiting, Wishing [Cover]

O how I love the drums...

Immortalized

Some college stuff. Apparently, I had this hobby of tryna-beeee-cool.

Yes! I made these GIFs.

Kieslowski's "Camera Buff"

Incognito

I am the sum of all of the truth there was.
In gentle amorous chains of the earth's stupor,
spoke I words that nourish the soils of knowledge.
As neither I spoke empty nor false.
Thus created I thyself by these hands,
thy fate by this mind.
Thou art my heirs and my children.
We meet at our origin.
Again dance we to the sound we hear not
and to the light dare we not seek.
'Cause thy eyes were made not to see my body.
Made thine to believe.

Mi papa grows a big moose tush

Mi papa grows a big moose tush.
He carries it all around the house.
He carries it always when taking a bath;
Or when he prays before sleeping.
He never takes it off.
Even when he cleans the dishes,
and when he feeds the pets.
He reads the newspaper with
his big moose tush on,
every single day.
He eats his breakfast with it on.
He trims it clean with blade and cream.
I love mi papa's moose tush.
That's what mi mama calls it.
A big and terrible moose tush.
Mi papa calls it mouse tush

Gravity

I made a sound that irked the elders,

Gravity made words fall apart on dark

unbelieving souls.

There was a closet of madness…

a stranglehold of emptiness…

swaying with the chords…

weaved in scrupulous downbeat.

“Truth is…”, cracked a madman

holding a book with torn up pages.

“…Dear that was knowledge

that came from nowhere…”

Newborn

We followed each other's existence
like the wind,
They came and went.
The party of sung apocalypse
went on in parcel of dreams;
'Twas thrown to our houses
each night we slept.
At one moment from that simple
yet obscure point of origin
our souls fired away -
burning the skies with
diffused colours of orange and red;
We never knew the past
Nor had we known the future.
Only the present mattered.
The children dreamt of that place
they once called home;
Fathers and forefathers
were oblivious of history;
We never came to know each other's name
and each other's favorite songs.
All the laws of the physical world
shattered like a fragile glass.
We were undressed like a newborn.
Innocent were we.
Faith dead like that of a soldier's -
Houses burned with fire,
Nurtured with memories -
lethargic and vain.
Equilibrium.
We slept for centuries.
We never knew the past
Nor had we known the future.
But we only lived at that single point in time
where we dreamt about good memories
of each other's existence,
and we were breathing,
we were speaking each other's name.
We were back to the beginning...