They tell you fire is an end. A purification. A closure. But that’s a lie spoken by the living, to soothe the unbearable thought that something remains. Fire doesn’t erase. It translates. Fire is not a destroyer, it is an interpreter, a violent linguist, fluent in flesh. Every pore, every scar, every stitch of human … Continue reading Fire that Translates the Flesh

There are places on this planet where life does not thrive, because was never welcome. These are not barren wastelands in the conventional sense, but geological refusals. Zones of negation. Pockets of the Earth where biology is not merely absent, but actively repelled. Here, the mechanisms that sustain all that is living, sunlight, moisture, breath … Continue reading Chemosynthesis and Geophilia

(And in his eyes, I saw death) There is no movement in the painting. Only a hush that has forgotten sound. A man sits, not young, not old, simply undone. His hands rest in his lap like folded wings, long since stripped of flight. Around him, the air is thick with something unnamed, something that … Continue reading Og i hans øjne så jeg døden

Sou o plural que afogou tentando nadar no singular,um labirinto de carne contra o solo,um feto ornamental na lata de lixo do mundo. Vivo pela dádiva do não ser,mas o dia mostra suas presase dilacera cada esperança acumulada como lixo até o teto.Minha mente é um domicílio insalubreonde nenhum pensamento respira sem apodrecer. Tento auscultar … Continue reading Cinzas em Areia Negra

“All my griefs to this are folly; Naught so damned as melancholy.” – Robert Burton Melancholy ancient, thick, and bitter as tar is no mere sorrow. It is the distillation of knowing too much, feeling too deeply, and surviving it nonetheless. John Donne, cloaked in shadows darker than clerical robes, penned Biathanatos not as a … Continue reading A Black Bile Addict: Biathanatos, Burton, and the Grave as Refuge

I am Zenosyne, not by birth, but by erosion. I did not seek this name, it grew on me like mold in a sealed room. I Fought the seconds, i begged the clock to slow down, but the faster i ran the more i understood. There's no finish line. Time didn't pass me by, it … Continue reading Zenosyne

Depression I feel a tearing pain through my body. It's as if my bones would break at any moment. I can't find the strength to perform any daily task. I feel an emptiness that is growing and filling up every space in my body until I lose consciousness of myself. The days blur together. I … Continue reading Synaptic Necrosis

The universe lies gasping, A bleeding patient upon eternity's table. Stars, malignant growths, Nebulae pulsate like infected organs, Space-time shredded open wounds. Dark surgeons arrive, Wielding scalpels forged from quantum void, Gravitational sutures threaded through black silk. Their hands, unseen and precise, Begin the futile reconnection, Stitching galaxies, closing cosmic veins. But healing births disaster, … Continue reading Nullanastomosis

There was a pile of burning bodies. Too many to count. Limbs tangled like roots. Mouths frozen in their last prays. The fire didn’t crackle it hummed, like something remembering its fury. And from the smoke, he stepped, black skin blistered with old scars. Eyes that didn’t shine, eyes that absorbed light, as if every … Continue reading Ashbreath

I. I was born beneath the illusion of matter, raised in the narcotic glow of "Purpose". Fed on Myths of meaning, on lies with teeth and wings. On Hope dressed in rotting flesh. But I have puked the lie I have scrapped the smile off my face and found nothing beneath. II. There's no higher … Continue reading The Best Version of Me