Mr. Styx

Brazil, MCMXCVII.

[bonfirepoetry]

Fala o que restou, uma bala adocicou o que tava com rancor. Eu guardava bem a dor, exceto quando o reflexo era o ápice do amor. Me apagava se não fosse ou for por menos narcisismo e mais contraste de cor. Ainda mostro pra ela o que ela nem sabe que existe. Poesia é o canal pra sintonizar quando se está triste. É magia sentir a lágrima no olho e a revolução em riste.

Caos me cerca, busco ordenar os astros. Fazer o meu sol e a lua dela serem símbolos de passos. Ver o mundo do telhado, observadores natos, gatos que são pássaros e cantam tão exatos sobre a morte e seus boatos. Sobre a vida e seus boatos...

Certeza de que o futuro é cinza e nebuloso. Amor, só me deixa um pouco, não quero te puxar pro meu fundo do poço. Eu já tô pelo pescoço, só me falta uma corda pra receber visita do Puro Osso. Ave Maria, pois só vejo fosco. Puta enredo tosco onde tenho o gosto de só ser um déjà vu. É voar e cair cedo feito Ali.

Maltratam a fauna, desmatam a flora. Resgato na alma uma força, revigora. Roubam tantos, tomam muitos. Eu, você, nós, todos juntos. Todos mortos, todos juntos. Tantos corpos, todos juntos. Todos.

E eu, estrela cadente, hei de ser, pro céu, um passageiro grato. Voltar próximo do final do ato, ser o próximo micro do macro.

[bonfirepoetry]

I hate on a lot of my writing.

[bonfirepoetry]

If Styx Wore A Mask

I gotta caliber the points

I guess 9 mini-minutes, know what that's like?

Ride by, caps fly to the joint

Then roll off like "That's life..."

Unmask? Try

Sev'nine, but in backwards

That's Clyde in new leathers

Took a liking of poetry like Roy's fled wife

Don't ask why

Don't, ask why

Don, ask crime

Bon, live less, fly

Gone when I'm like "Oh" cause there's five

Bet, dive

No "let's bribe"

Just mask, hide

Yep, blessed ait

Yeeehah, that's right

Think I'll go to Mc's and rest

Or have some Mac & Stacks

An old roll up in a porno mag, heck's that?

Oh, no, bro, that's--

Grass with hash!

Moon,

I'm just tripping while my lover's sleeping

Sweet and chique in her summer clothes, but winter's creeping

But I still fear the house will catch on fire

Cause this fucking chick is breathing

And she's looovely

And I adore her

[bonfirepoetry]

Lord, mind if I take flight? Let my ichor flow, may Nyx own the night.

Sometimes it sucks to be mortal, sometimes it's perfectly normal.

Sprung from chaos like a challenged demigod; bet the odds and cherish, frauds...

Let me rot, I'm barely hot... Cause I'm just too cold to be so, so fairly not.

[bonfirepoetry]

Johnny beared a revolver like those from the wild west, he could send you to a corridor of awaiting phantoms... Not only that, Johnny had a bulletproof vest and a fetish for drinking venom.

How come he wouldn't die? Martha said he's cursed to wander Earth. Like Cane, but since his birth: ate his twin when mama had them tucked.

A machine of robbing liquor stores to vault himself some hundred bucks, and Martha rode the passenger seat. Start it with a kiss, hand slides to the gun on the hips, that old bittersweet. "Shoot him if he's cocky, Johnny", and he'd go off. Just another body to throw off.

Her lipstick, like the fallen apple from Eden; their business, not to be fucked with either. To a witness, witness this, but hush your chatter, or he will tear a hole in your face just cause he had to.

On his wishlist, dying triple the age of Clyde; his bad girl by his side, a muscle ride, a lake to dive, a spoon by night and some weed to get him high to fly.

Who cares about foes in ditches? But some gold and riches to hold the digits of not ever having to smoke some bitches again, as she lays her head on his shoulder, saying that the pressure's over.

His great depression: being sober or having to unbury that colt from the crackling hole under that leather-ish sofa.

He caught a body yesterday, but let it go...

[bonfirepoetry]

I gotta say something about this shit.

Build and connect, I was built to collect

Crossing the ts, dotting the is, I'm filling what's left

Thanking God for my breath, cause deep down, I kneeled to come back

As the knife went to stab when I had no protector

But my karma ain't on debt, yeah, my karma's in check

Cause I fairly progressed and helped some old lads

Shit, gotta tell ya cold facts: Write what I'll tell you, go bet

A man can stop a war if he has none in his head

Enough for a picture, I stand as they send in the tank

I won't take another step to pet a wolf and his fangs

Look at the sheep, look at the streets, they cry out

Hungry to eat while hugging defeat as I bon appetit a petite

Damn, then more of our downfall, the tears from the clown talks

The fear in the town crawls, eats your soul when the night calls

Reflecting on what's affecting what's mostly my fault

Since back when Puff was high on his buzz, the rap game as his prime pawns

No apology to it, and if he's to die cause of it, I got an analogy to it

What makes it so clueless about who's the next king when he cannot be proven?

I ain't paying homage, if you think so, get a brain check, you're stupid

So rest in peace to Michael and Aaliyah, Tupac and whoever else knew shit

Instead of grabbing a machine gun and aiming at Kelly

I say that idols can turn to rivals, are liable to perish

No bible to cherish when your favorite is hellish

Now, who will speak out? Raise your flag if you bear it

For the culture. Fuck Diddy and his sum of friendly vultures.

[daddyfuckedme]

[bonfirepoetry]

s.k.u.l.l.y. (since killing ultimately limits lives, yet...)

i open up my closet and some skeletons collapse, the ghosts inside the house want the content of that flask. i pour my blood in the quill, then go to put down my mask - while under the bed in my chamber, long lost skulls are so vast.

i wonder what's left of that kid whom was once proclaimed king. i wonder if my spirit left me when i opened my wings. i wonder a bit too much, now i'm but a wanderer... mirror says, "are you looking for your gun, gunner?"

where am i to shoot at, but my temple 'til i'm gone? one will suffice, but my ocd says that's wrong... but then again, why bother since i was born to die under time's conclusion of sharpening the scythe?

sometimes i just don't know, but i'm drawing hieroglyphs... born a curse bearer, heir to a set of horns, then became a myth... and the thorns on his crown never made me smile, but there was this once i forced a laughter when drowning denial made me put my best aside just to turn as vile as the ones that stomp the soil of unfortunate trials.

for that, i shall pay. for, that one deed, i repent. consider that a wicked way of going hell-bent, sum. consider this a view through the eyes of the insolent one.

[aequrion-deactivated20250618]

There is a price to empathy. A suffocating despair consumes you, and in most cases it’s not even yours.

[bonfirepoetry]

what's in your open hand?

[bonfirepoetry]

here's what...

sonho acordado enquanto o pesadelo se faz vivo. sei duns que tão anti a minha retaguarda, onde tá cristo?

eu só queria um visto e me mudar pra um país sem fome, mas é utopia sonhar com isso enquanto voa o drone. contra a patifaria da artilharia, eis a poesia; desejo um bom dia, mesmo que cinza, eis a cortesia.

e eu hei de ser só cinzas, mas até lá, sou um vôo em eco, e o que é e há ao meu redor se esvai enquanto peco.

então só peço que, no cessar do meu cardio na terra, que haja um rebelde desconhecido pra parar um tanque, pela mãe que berra por seu filho em ruas de guerra e ora pra que o solo não se pinte com o seu sangue.

chora pra lavar a alma e descalcificar o peso; grita no travesseiro pra desatar o que tava preso.

perante a pena, dez corações na balança, quantos vivem? perante a queima da plantação, tantos vivem.

[bonfirepoetry]

now that x has been banned in brazil

word to the false prophets who got me under their optics: thou shalt never conquer the dominions of my logic. i'd rather lay in pain on my deathbed, only to point to the fair just where we're left at, waving flags until my breath's fled.

i'm unbreakable, even if I get smited for my hubristic behavior. fuck you, you sadistic bitch, you ain't my savior. the poison's sweet, honey adds up to the flavor of going back and forth into the void of favors.

like hercules in his labors, i’m to reestablish myself. get past this, move past that, and if i'm to best this, then who's to bet that? let's reflect on the shelf, i'm cut from the stardust on each book, now where's my head at? yet, back to the surface from the bottom of my drowning, the specters in the sea are haunting.

i'll pour you a flask of my blood, mind your sips, take it slow, as if you had a busy throat and my words were "make it grow". minus the snow in your nostrils, shake the globe. minus the gun in that powder, may we close this convo at "can we glow?"... shit, i'm thinking so.

yeah, i'm thinking so... so let it be what time is willing to let it be, our sting in a shitty show. all in all, it's all so pitiful. but i'm bleeding hope.

[bonfirepoetry]

333am

it was 3:33, i woke up for a smoke. stayed up and begged god for some hope. prayed not to snowball myself to a slippery slope, just so i could cope with having my head filled with dope. more smoke to my lungs, kaya bless, marijuana. i see the contrast in layers, dare to doubt if you wanna. my veins below zero, i'm just keeping it a hunna. but my irises, firey as the rise of a phoenix in a hummer.

mighty done with the drama, it's sand in the hourglass. and the hours pass so fast that we're rawer at last. look at the spark that awakens from breathing in, in protest of lives taken, warplanes are briefly in. the fine line's seeming thin, for of course it has always been, even when the odds were in favor, worse now that they're working against. but we're all open to dance, the devil invites you not to repent. we're all chosen by chance, his fork moves demons to subdue thy pen.

and it's all like... living to sin, breathe in the fumes of the dead; walking the land of what's left to the rest; marching against not seeing further than that; partially knowing, but knowing that's facts. and it's all fucking crazy. we're all but cattle to the slaughter in the house of hades; we're all but battles of what's left since adolf wronged many; since back when the whip would hit a back during slavery. and i'm like, for fuck's sake, shit...

então, não morra de sede, vish... e nem vá com muita ao pote ou tu é peixe na rede, triste ver que eu precisei dar com a minha fuça no muro, tropeçar no escuro, pra saber que quem visse acharia que eu não tava lá assim tão puro. mas eu considero o ar que faltava ali como algo amargo e com juros, tipo o karma batendo e cobrando um certo seguro. mas não foi lá tão seguro, quase morri mais de uma, é foda. e me pergunto como o hoje estaria lá fora. embora tudo igual, algo faria falta na sobra, tipo um toque da arte faltando na obra.

claro que eu mudei, olha o mundo, mas vou equilibrar o chi. pro meu maior silêncio ser um leão ao rugir. quando eu cair, eu vou ressurgir como se já tivesse escrito. não vão se livrar de mim tão fácil, eu volto em espírito. permaneço uma música, e o meu eco, em lírico; gratidão por tornar o meu cinza tão vívido; xingamentos, eis o silêncio dos sínicos; em contraste à tristeza no olhar dos mímicos. e seria tão típico de mim não deixar de mencionar que além do horizonte sempre vem a ser o mar.

e à ti cabe o seu lugar, seja ao sol ou ao luar... cabe ao coração perdoar... fazer a prece ou recuar? yeshua...

[bonfirepoetry]

idk, falling in love is s2, heartbreaks are sz...

[bonfirepoetry]

i have my share of fags to smoke

i've had my share of pretty boys to shag

i met my share of baddies who love to choke

hence my share of no fucks given to foelike folks

pardon my ego, i'm narcissus and dorian grey

shuffle your game at ease and your favor, i'm down to play

don't take this the wrong way

don't take me wrong, wait

if you're mine to hold, wear me like a parachute

put our love against their hate and place your bet, i'll shoot

from gas stations to banks, to a vault greater than frank

sinatra's fancy drinks, a bonnie and clyde serenade, won't care if it's cliché

or a 9 to 5 towards stability, hell if i know, but hey

i'm hard to deal with, like pull a lever for the tracks to change

the derailing train's case of riding fast, no breaks

so whatever it takes, may this letter reach your weary feather to alert that

that i am a fuck up, so i'm frankly analysing the ocean

listening to frank ocean, thinking anne frank faced harder shit due to a nation's motion

but i want to punch my fucking wall so violently in the same amount i want to cry and bleed

so i'm stuck between finding guidance and hiding bayonets

and admiring violets and fighting silence with a strike of lightning violence

and it's so vile that...

i'm uncertified, archived bible gaps

of my strife through facts

or fantasized distress

[stolenhead]

Bank

[bonfirepoetry]

who am i?

.

[bonfirepoetry]

desfiguração.

caso deus me chame, 1.

violeta, eis o tom da tinta da caneta. meio que o azul é esperança e o vermelho goteja. que Deus nos proteja, pois além, a incerteza guia o sono de quem não vê o amanhã com clareza. fluxo da correnteza, testa a fé do senhor do tempo, pra ver se não vira. já disse, "quando eu me for, incendeiem uma pira com meu corpo em cima pra ver se a chama respira". devaneio, matina regada a cafeína, mergulho na sina de beijar a nicotina enquanto ouço uma rima falando da chuva. umbrella, ella, eh, ela entendeu o meu laroyê. se ela se prender, espelho meu, o que isso significará pra você? saí do retrato do dorian nesse dia tão cinza, pra ver se alguma nuvem vira minha tinta. há um lado da selva que entende a finta, a minha série mudou desde a quinta.

and i hate to be the bad guy, but i am that dye, but i'm not mad, guys... said the king of the dead to the beings in his head by about the sixth fucking time since the stroke of midnight, in his sleep, to his dreams when he died in his bed. arose a phoenix, ain't it so pretty, ain't there such beauty like a rebirth? when he's seen dirt, flirted with death's kiss - with and without the bitch's skirt... fuck, i guess it's just lust, fuck myself up to the death of my last nut to bust. pardon the language, it's just coming out, i'll adjust...

mas se eu for falar do país sem falar da raiz de ser descartável meretriz, forçada a abrir as pernas mais que adulta e atriz... eles devoram quem devora e quem é devorado, nós nos devoramos e decoramos manchetes pro estado. vira bola de neve, só olha pro lado, tu se cala ou tu é calado. Moisés, eu sei quem se apossou do teu cajado. eis que revisto a ponta da pena com mais essência de alado, pra dar asas à quem pensa que tá acorrentado... ah, porém farto de ver o trato engravatado, como se fossemos um prato a ser degustado. tão fácil rimar com ado, mas árduo trabalhar sendo deputado... imagina um ctrl c e v de não morro calado, bato na mesma tecla até cada bater no tablado. mas se amanhã não acordo, apagado, tenta a sorte, aposto que não abala o legado.

so decay... be putrid as your treatment towards us... but with many blessings, and a tad bit of irony. quoting a popular movie, "do not fuck with us". when i fall, i'll know i fought. that matters the most to me. and to those who'll stay and outlive me: blood, sweat and tears. you'll be remembered. mind your footprints, fight back what would tarnish you. spit your pain back in the ground they walk on, for you are a fighter; take care of your kin, for you are a lover.