Writing because I'm too poor to make movies. Working to change that!
It is frail to believe you’re strong, it is strength that reveals your weakness The very scars on your skin represent a failure on behalf of malice, a severed connection between a trigger and a ‘maybe’…
By Patrick Santiagoabout a year ago in Poets
I ran from memory because it took too much time Memories run their course like cursive loops bending ‘feeling’ to trigger; heavily armed
Dark suns burn black with tiredness, and I reach out to her cold night for an icy embrace... I float in shadows as deep as the Mediterranean sea, and swallow her mass like a hungry child gasping for breath...
Something concerning has awoken I thought that I killed it but the visions are churning I found it breathing down my neck like an urchin
Night-work... I bend at it's whim and let the craze embrace my face Beauty recites a time where innocence bloomed and curiosity warned...
You're an angry saint In the name of the faithless, the sadist and holy contradictions You wear your garment and preach the gospel with bonded fictions
By Patrick Santiago2 years ago in Poets
I sit with the devil's and sing songs As the roads dusted and winds shivered... I've never worn armor that shined I never rescued damsels for theater
I'm looking for help in people so helpless I'm reaching the limits of reality, so hopeless Too many restarts, too many religions - not enough substance
Filtered grain inside my calloused brain I'm beaten to a strain in my eyes that will never go away Derealized contraband, reality killer serenade
I filled my day with rotten voices The melodies cast shadows on baited choices ...but mirrors pay tribute to cracked sights...
I did not mean to for it to turn out the way it did. I just wanted to write - but imagination is addictive. When I met it, it did not speak of how this would all turn out. It promised me success - and in turn my soul.
By Patrick Santiago2 years ago in Fiction
I am the space between your thighs, a lusty premonition of what lurks inside... I am the river bed that leaks rebellion between your thighs
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