Quebrar e a chance de Reconstruir

I came by the forest.

Finding stairs and long corridors,

That lived on a view.

No bodies,

Yet the sensation moved,

In different rooms.


Connection is intention,

As people are bloom.

An open door,

          With comfort as the fruit.


Unlike the tree, I am rooted in uncertainty.

My responsibility escapes, finding stones.

Creating mountains,

As bittersweet leaves, frolic away from lusty trees,

I grow my vegetables and fruits.

To find a harmony that is not artificially bloomed in societal truths,

Am I understandable to you? 


I want something I can taste,

Smell, touch and unravel.

I wonder,

       How you smile,

When you see, a mind,

               That breathes freely.

                              With no pattern to walk,

              It stalks. 


Driving a force,

Like splitting wood,

Each log a different call. 

Fuelling your form.

You find a purity that burns to keep you warm. 


I do not wish to change your heart,

You are yours.

I am mine.

I only advise,


So you can walk, a path,

You choose, with each moment

You produce.


Fortitudes of Woman

Fortitudes of Woman

I am grander than you know

Larger than you assume

I am humble, but you have underestimated this too.

I am quite, not because, I have no words

But what I need to say, cannot be spoken,

I have tried.

But my passion was seen as weakness

My nobility as stuckupness

I have been misunderstood

But I do not blame you

What are you to know;

That my power lies in what you cannot control

Yet try to mould.

Try and bondage me

You begin with my feet

Paint my eyes,

Numb my mind

Buy your beauty here,

It is free

Just give me your sanctity

Give me the reality; that tells you that you will be pleased.


Listen to me,

I am MAN


You are WO-man

You are ME

Made from my ribs,

I allow you to live

In pretty gowns

Pretty in Pink

Pretty for you

Cover yourself, I may take you.

Have you whole

Please myself

Sucking on your nectar

Digging into your cosmic well

Thrusting agonies of my own personal tale.

Until you let go

Until the dark space entails

That what exists is this

Not you.

Although I come through the portal you hold between your being

I tell you to kneel

Kneel to me WO-MAN

Swallow me whole,

As I have swallowed you.


You are a rhythm I am trying to tune

Your freedom lies in what I place in front of you

Choose wisely,

You have a knife to cut

A paint to brush

A pen to write

And a dress to untie 

Choose wisely.

The prior three are also for me,

It is only the dress you truly own.


I dawned my best attire

Wrote myself into a slumber

Painted myself a masterpiece and cut myself a new door

I know your options but I want more,

I want you

To know my truth

Life is for the living

Woman or Man I stand to know

That the weakness you perceive,

Is only my growth

It was my silence that allowed you to believe, that the shadow you bespoke was an item I wished to retain

I stepped out from under your shadow

From under your gaze

The one who told me, I was second place.

I entered a blurry haze, a space with frequencies and opening gates

I found the moon,

Darkness swoons.

It is she who sets me ablaze

To the knowledge that was forbidden

That laid hidden

That I am the same as you.


You cannot tame, what is unafraid of your minute game

I do not need to believe your truth,

Masculine and feminine exists within the source

It is that which calls me home

That gives me the tools to inherit my throne,

Take my body if you will

But my mind is a kaleidoscope you can never unwind or unsee

The magnitudes of the spectrum is what sets me free

It is also because of this, you wish to chain me

With white ribbons of silk,

Your weakness is your simplicity,

Mine is my infinity

Sometimes it is hard to see

Especially when blind-folded and moulded to believe

Your penis is my goal

Your pleasure my aim

My no and my murmurs fall on death ears

And I abide to your come here.

I watch myself disappear

I see myself swallowed by the bed

Hear all the words that cannot be said

My whimpers forever in my head

I pick up my clothes

I walk to the door,

My virginity gone,

My understanding- on hold.  

My womanhood- on the way.

I let the rain cleanse me

Watch it wipe me away

Dance out my aches

The pain stays

I create with it

When I find my mind

When I find you

The eternal love of life and form

That tells me these words

That gives me this strength

To say,

Although you took my body,

You did not leave me dead

You made me stronger instead.

You made me realise that my power and control

Lies in knowing I am whole

That I home, that I am true

Paradoxical in name,

My reality-my perception lies in what you can not claim.


What do you hear?

What do you see?

I hear the power of infinity

I see beauty

I see you and me

Staying silent will not set us free

Staying silent only allows our creativity to stay in the make-believe

Create with me

Create with us

The power of WO-MAN

Is the power of life

Stand tall

This is our fight

For without me there would be none of your kind

I am not blind,

I can see

The power of us together

Is power of better.

This piece is a collaboration with aNother moNKey


A Fruitful Disease

For L.


I melt.


 A motion that is as fluid as it cellular

Tender in moments of exterior fractures,

Density spirals create collisions till arrival.


I abide to a form that hold no disguise

I disintegrate. Inside.

Losing self,

Moulds break.


Held to entail my frail wells

I become apt in my softness

I become bold.

As notions dissolve

I unfold,

Dispersing to erupt a ceremonious love

That blooms once I understand the complexity of my youth.

Reality is sincere.

Creating fantasies of cosmic parallelity.

I disperse.


A figment of possibility,

Is my sanctity

I change to see

That I am as malleable as my beliefs.

As truthful as what cannot be seen.


Peculiar feelings are conceived,

When my form is like the sea.

Changing with every gush, of the breeze,

Every tide, a root within me.


What is true?

What exists between the old and the new?

A thread .

A souring kiss grounds me to exist.



Remembering that like chocolate,

I can be as bitter as I am sweet

This is the memory of what it is to be,

A form like me.  


The Open Heart


There was no moment, before I came to. 

In darkness I lived, but I could see through. An inherited home required my attention with the same vigour that a mountain thirsts for water. A desperation that runs so deep I do not know where it seeps. It is the only belief I know. I cannot disguise my apprehension to all that grows, while staying below. 

I am held here. My captor created ripples, penetrating my drooping skin, pushing my bolts and tightening my screws until all I can withstand is the silence that allows me to whisper within. It is the only thing I hold.  I am tied to this deathly song like the locket of a lover who has moved on. I wait in a tomb. The vibrations of yesterday do not waver in their murmur. I am alone. 






The grace that purifies all that lives does not come to my form. My shape must contort. Allow air to disrobe what is already fractured, hanging in the breathless void.

Screeching vapours of dense gas encroached my mouth, releasing a portrait of mist that circulated my anatomy: leaving me within, the insane daze of passing days.




I am a being unseen. Scaly and brutish, I am an assortment of treasures. A beast in disguise from its own eyes, for the form in which I reside weeps, when I reveal my mind. 

The being that wakes has no voice. I have no choice in my understanding. A listening booth is what I tried to compose. I want to hear what will allow me to leave this prison.



 Alas I find myself within a maze of encroaching dimensions that leaves everything I desire without intention. Destiny leaves much to be admired. I was promised a loving space; yet remain rooted in sinking matter. What I grow, decays before budding, like its creator. Failing to prosper in the material realm. I have nothing left.

I know myself within these walls. My faith is as ridiculous as a dying sunset; a conjuring of thought that cannot be accessed in time.

I reside inside.

The darkness is where I grow, where I wake, and where I play. I create feasts of my dismay, to devour. They settle in my stomach creating bubbles that destroy me vigorously.

I cannot flourish in a waking state.

I am a slave to the haunted. 


My gate is my throne. 

A castle composed of fractures and spirals, adorned atop the humblest of bones. I envision silky ribbons of pastel coloured light beaming into my soul and cracking my shell. A dance that disrupts all I have ever been. Allowing me to germinate expressive ceremonies that originate from within me. I imagine that this is what it feels like to be free. 


I am an intrusion; a being that colluded with time and space in order to wake. This was my first mistake. 

To open my door would be to let the world know that in here, there is a being that roams.

I will make no noise.

Imagined dream states invade my coffin.

I allow them to drape my surface like soliloquy’s said between young lovers on the brink of spring, an enslaving sensual delirium as potent as cherry blossoms.


To leave this castle of bones is to perish. Violating energies creating calamities of youthful proportions are the smallest fears I face. Long corridors and solitary gateways wait for the being that decides to emerge.


I found my disguise.

 I anointed myself an everlasting fear and cast a spell that meant I would forever be caged in here. Alongside a bewilderment of beliefs, a fountain of mould as vast as land and sea and a view of a mountain, I would never reach. Everything flourishes except thee. I did not want to be a beast, but it was all I found in my chamber of mirrors.     


I sit waiting. Fading into forgotten shadows, riddled with options. I find treasures in every direction and eat them like a beast, nourished by their multiplicity. I settle into the seed of forgotten needs and let myself be taken by what I cannot see. It feeds the darkness of my torrid tongue and I hear the ghouls sing their marching song.

I am a slave to the haunted. 


I imagine breaking through the dents in my back, to smoothen my core. Composing sounds of flowing waters submerge me gracefully. My form becomes unhinged; leaving me with buckets of my own exposed ruin. Embraced by my deepest roots. Nourished by the voice that does not speak, but vibrates in every action.

A second is forever in the galaxy of the heart so I need not know, how long I wondered in the dark. 


A noise came to my door.

I stayed silent as long as I could, but the knocking did not cease. The smell of my dreams was now my reality. It was patient. It played on my door like a petal on the breeze. Wafting the air, creating need.  I was sure my castle could not be found, a spiralling staircase set upon decomposing ground. A valley of quicksand to suck all those who dare approach, and a stream of miniature bones adorned my throne.

Yet I hear a knock. 

I came to, speaking in a voice unknown to thee. There is no need to speak when you understand yourself with a deathly serenity. Words are but tools, reserved for earthly beasts.

My voice trembled as I opened my mouth; my lips were tight as my tongue hugged my check with a wrestlers grip. I uttered,  

“Leave or say what you desire for I cannot help with what you require.”

Stillness appears, making me quiver in my steps. This form and I had a strange connection.

This being did not speak.

I waited. I shall not open my gate or say another thing. I am in pain; darkness escapes my veins. It is a dangerous tempest. 

I feel dynamic in its presence. 

This foreign brute hurts my life for I am sensitive to all those without disguise. I must protect myself. I must hide.

Knowing I’m not alone bruises me. It is vibrating below the ground. A dense shudder. I swayed under its grace. Could it feel my infested soul?  

It was grinding into my back like a digger; I hurled myself to the ground. Silently praying that mercy would be given to thee.


Eternity passed in our trembling forms. This moment did not exist in time, but rather in the pains of what scurried behind my unconscious eyes.

Primordial darkness stood between us.  


Its voice did not vibrate on this earth.


“I am ‘I’. You have the wrong place. I am that which bleeds without demise. I feel but cannot describe.”

I am an eternal sigh that gains no rest.


It must be a trick. I feel weak and scared to know: what makes this being.

How can it be assured in a land so strange?

This ground is mine.  

The being has stayed too long. Its nearness is disturbing my temporal song. 

The being wants to join me; I felt it in my bones. 

Does it not know that I wish to be left alone? 


I feel weak and deranged.

I have nowhere to hide. I shall not speak. I do not want to satisfy the thirst of this form. This being does not want ‘I’ but another earthly disguise. It is the swarm of desert loci that engage the green plain; skipping over the riverbeds, they feast for another day.



This being feels like the energy that surrounded the seed before the initial bloom. 

Its presence has me lost in an infinite loop of curious rooms.


I put my back to the door. My flesh and form cannot bear this weight. I am in need. I want this being close to me. In ways that make me shudder, I am in need of deliverance. I am in longing. I want to be touched by the tides of this form like the infectious waves of the ocean; I am the patient ever-changing rock.


I have no touch for what is strange. I can see no colour, other than the one that surrounds my earthly wake. Yet I want this being. It consumes me.


With a rush of tortured winds, doubt begins to sing. I am being dragged to the brink; I am face to face with my gate. Venerability has a face, an abyss with no mist. My hands wont leave my side. I want another disguise, a place where I no longer hide.

My mouth gapes wide, as my skin spreads. A conversational void between my fear and my suspicious soul emerges. It enables me to breathe.

What a funny feeling. Air caresses my side as swirls of lightning lift my temporal mind. My doubt swims from behind my eyes. For the first time since my birth, I have another feeling.

 I am split. I am turning. Rising to a new sensation that creates a cosmos of possibilities.

I feel you, deeply.

Coloured lights skim along, polished floors that stretch beyond view. I am a mountain, surrounded by energies that lack disguise. Swans of vapours electrify and purify all I hold dear. They leave me naked and scorned. In shame and fear, I contort. Laying my head in my wounds, I create memory walls to hear the sounds of what I loved once before. Their vibrations are burning me, like the glare of a volcanic storm; I am born in the fire of its call.

I am face to face with a sound, which lives presently now. A birthing rage fills its form, it slithers to my ear, and with reverberating scream – it whispers


A wolfish smile stills me. Twittering tingles play along my exposed vertebrates. Magnetic murmurs push me to the edge. I need, I want, to have this being within.

It whispers into my ear, its mouth plays along my bolts and screws. My senses are filled with an ethereal scent. Purple in shape, blue in space, yellow in heart, green in pulse, red in odour- it delights me into submission. Unwinding my form, I unlock, unblock and breath, its youth. I am a dark panther crossing prisms of 3-dimensional bridges. Within my minds eyes, I understand the root of my disguise.

I am transforming. My fears turn into a desert haze, as my dreams become riverbeds that constantly grow to create.

As I unwind, opaque winter clouds emerge from my scales.

I dive into my darkest wells and unlock all the monsters that I feed.

 I belong, to what I cannot see. I am filled with a delicious glee. I want this being and I can feel it wants me.

I feel unworthy, dirty with the sin of wasted time. I close my eyes and open the gate.

There is no visible sight, only my blistering disguise.

I see my form. A weltering violet in a compassionate hurricane, I grow roots like a tree.

A conversation between reality and mystery play along my sides- foraging my mind, I am no longer a prisoner to what kept me inside. My chains slip from my form and I remember that it was I who locked the door.

I wish to hear the voice once more. A confirming call that it was not in my mind.

A thunderous vibration tells me I am not alone; I do not fall, I am not afraid. I am awake, a sensation that is as unfamiliar as the path ahead.

I feel my essence in the breeze, desiring to hear what I seek; yet I hear only the expanding space within me. Silence emerges.  My heart races with anticipation, I will live to hear their voice once more.

I feel my home expanding, rooms unravelling, doors opening, feelings growing. I do not see the being but feel it sliver along my bones, telling me to grow. I close my gate and face the familiarity of the unknown.  


The Meeting Plane

Two Lovers

There were two lovers in a field. Holding and wishing to be healed, their kisses turned each other into an eternal bliss. They forget their temporal discipline, and why they had emerged from their previous catalyst.

They needed to find their own reasons to exist. Instead they found material pleasures in each other’s arms. Finding new shapes within their shared dreams, they found a home they did not want to leave. It had enough space for two but before they settled, they had to taste their temporal fruits. They gathered a cosmos of strength, from their longings and desires and let each other go. Trusting that each would find their way home. They were swept into a realm where their hands were no longer intertwined. They fell from their castle of dreams and were swallowed by their fears and beliefs.

They were swept into a realm where their hands were no longer intertwined. They fell from their castle of dreams and were swallowed by their fears and beliefs.

One faced a mountain of gold that stood on volcanic land. It hurled hot rocks and golden prisms made of sand. The other a forest, filled with immortal holes. It smelt like the dreams of prisoners who had hailed sorrow as there tomorrow. They entered and obeyed their own sound, digging for new perceptions and gaining intuitions.

  The first lover listened to the harmony, that puffed and sneaked. It obeyed the whispers of the forest, like its own heartbeat. The holes below stretched to the unsightly dwellings of what did not speak but slithered in the bleakness of being incomplete.

Leaning and peering at what was underneath, the lover was amazed at the beauty. The roots gnarled, wanting to taste what slithered above their crown. The watery nectar of the lover was tempting the forest into a violent kiss. They wished to swallow it whole, feel it revel in the darkness of their rooted soul, a beautiful sight to nourish a daunting night.

    The lover grew to the caws and sub songs of what lived in the trees. It senses soared above and scourged with the roots below.

The souls beneath the forest floor were relentless in their need. They wanted to feel the lover- bleed.

The lover stayed true. It held the power of the florescent full moon with a steady calamity. Silent in its wants, it pushed energy to the roots below, purring promises of safer tomorrows. Grounded in the sorrow of earthly time; they remembered the promise of divine light.  Their lovers voice whispered them home and they were wrapped in the warm velvet, of a caring soul.

Silent in its wants, it pushed energy to the roots below, purring promises of safer tomorrows.

    The lover broke the silence between with the birds and the spirits, creating a conversation between existence and reality. A mysterious insanity that was vulnerable to bloom. They moved slowly through the darkness. Staring at what conversed below; in awe at the beauty, of grief unclothed.

The second lover stood at the edge of ash and gold. The dignity of the mountain was kin to a snake slithering on a lake of ice. A graceful ferocity that was transcendental in disguise.

The realm held a heavenly weight. The lover gave itself to the monsters of the sea, the spirits of the fire and the divinities of the sky. They tried to forget the lover they left behind.

     Blood rushed through their veins as they descended into the deepest roots of their volcanic mind. A tender heart with gentle needs, the lover was like the bee, taking nectar without destroying a petal in the breeze. The lover returned to their core, where space and time were vacuums with open doors. The lover stepped forth.  

The spirits of the mountain filled the lover with a sensual fright. They forget their name and their plight. They began to walk along the spiralling bridge; it was a kaleidoscope of all they held within.

They descended to their darkest rooms, holding onto the mountains truth. Their feet glided along the celestial confirmations, with an ethereal touch. Their eyes were clogged with dust. Eternal aspirations moved through the lover with comet speed. Muted by the divinity of the mountain, appearance became a fickle illusion of light. The lover stalked the witching fortresses of dimensions with watchful eyes.

   An essence penetrated the lover like knives of ice; it dissected its temporal disguise. The lover became a roaming mind. In their chambers they planted seeds of perpetual truth. A cemetery with an angelic grace became a garden of youth. The lover stood at the mountain peak engrossed by the booming horizon. Violet hues with golden tones expanded and expressed humility to the forest below and the fire beneath. The lover stood, quietly, in peace.

The lover became a roaming mind. In their chambers they planted seeds of perpetual truth. A cemetery with an angelic grace became a garden of youth.

   Yet a ghost of temporal proportions sang to be free. They breathed a silent promise into the clouds and hoped the breeze would return the key so they could dismount. A statuesque form made of two heads and three eyes was the lover’s new disguise. They closed their eyes and jumped from the heavenly view, landing into an embrace, that made them understand the beauty of two.

Twilight shined through their embrace and the evolving sunrise lay above there composing temporal threads. Their entwined souls had bloomed a new home. Their kisses were the cool breeze, pulsing alongside the lava lakes, bursting to be set free.

The lovers became growth and peace; always finding new ways to meet. Never leaving each others side, they found spirits and forms to soothe and grow. Each lover had passed through, to see that faith in the unknown was the only true home. 


Smiles Guaranteed

A taste. A flavour.

A passing glint,

Complexity mingles

The pleasure, the desperation,



You appoint the giver of youth.

You need, the delight,

Its momentary flight,

Over to soon.

Nirvana in taste, marvellous trice,

The giggles ripple, plentiful,

In truth.


Beauty leaves.

Too hungry, you consume.


The cracklings of bones,

 You moan.

Its ambiguity is its true shape-

Held, but never in place,

It desires. It wants.  

To be moved, with licks, of willed freedom.

It rolls to its inevitable end.

Temporality is true clarity.

Hysteria and folly, in the summers haze,

The winter’s pleasure and a spring treat,

It moves quickly,

I forget my place, as ice cream rolls down my fingers and I lick it away.

Art work by @lumchen