31 reloaded tracks from my latest monthly creations — an anthology of rock. From grunge, garage, and post-punk to prog, doom, emo rock, alt metal, and metalcore, each cut reimagines my originals with raw riffs, crushing drums, and anthemic hooks built for SoundCloud discovery and replay.

ROCK PRISM

I found your lighter in my coat
Didn’t cry — just felt the smoke
Your echo lives behind the door
But I don’t feel it like before

Some ghosts don’t need to talk
They just sit there and rot

I wonder if sometimes
Not too long, maybe just a second
You still think about me
You still hear my voice
You still smell my odor
Not too long, maybe just a second
I wonder sometimes

Cause I don’t
Fuck you Philippe

Your records still spin in my head
But they scratch like everything you said
I bled enough on all your lines
Now I just cross out your signs

I don’t miss, I dissect
What you ruin, I protect

I wonder if sometimes
Not too long, maybe just a second
You still think about me
You still hear my voice
You still smell my odor
Not too long, maybe just a second
I wonder sometimes

Cause I don’t
Fuck you Philippe

All the blame you threw like knives
Guess what — I'm still alive
Every lie you wrapped in silk
I wear them now like scars, not guilt

I wonder if sometimes
Not too long, maybe just a second
You still think about me
You still hear my voice
You still smell my odor
Not too long, maybe just a second
I wonder sometimes

Cause I don’t
Fuck you Philippe
Just fuck you

I wonder sometimes (Post Punk Rock reload)

You said something kind of sweet,
then typed it twice, that’s weird to me.
I saw your playlist, skipped a song,
now everything just feels too long.

Red flag? Maybe.
Blue light? Daily.

I block at the first thing I don’t like.
Don’t ask me why — it feels right.
Could be your tone, could be your face,
could be the way you write “ok”.
No fight, no talk, no sigh — just click.
My peace of mind is algorithmic.

You posted quotes at 2 a.m.,
I saw one twice — that’s where it ends.
No time to fix, no need to prove,
delete the thread, erase the move.

Soft heart? Maybe.
Hard rules? Daily.

I block at the first thing I don’t like.
Don’t ask me why — it feels right.
Could be your tone, could be your face,
could be the way you write “ok”.
No fight, no talk, no sigh — just click.
My peace of mind is algorithmic.

“People say I’m cold —
but warmth attracts bugs.”

I block at the first thing I don’t like.
It keeps my world clean, black and white.
No drama left, no fix to find.
You cross a line — I close the site.

Red flag? Maybe.
Blue light? Daily.
Soft heart? Maybe.
Hard rules? Daily.

I block at the first thing (Indie Rock reload)

I keep the volume low.
Your ghost still pings sometimes,

I scroll for warmth in plastic light,
each face repeats the same good night.
No blood, no pulse, just patterned waves,
we’re data ghosts pretending grace.

I feel your name behind the screen,
it fades before it ever breathes.

Touch me through my digital skin,
tell me I’m real before I log in.
Every feed’s a mirror, cracked but clean,
every thought recycled, machine to machine.
If I’m alive, it’s by design —
a loop that ends where I confide.

We dream in numbers, sleep in codes,
love translated into modes.
Your typing stops — that’s how I know
the algorithm let you go.

I see your shadow in the scroll,
too perfect to be whole.

Touch me through my digital skin,
tell me I’m real before I log in.
Every feed’s a mirror, cracked but clean,
every thought recycled, machine to machine.
If I’m alive, it’s by design —
a loop that ends where I confide.

We are the crowd,
we are the code.
Lonely together,
never alone.

Touch me through my digital skin,
tell me I’m real before I log in.
Erase the silence, fake the sin,
love me once before I begin.

The page refreshes,
and I’m gone again.


Digital skin (Alternative Rock reload)

Door slams shut — I still hear your name.

Walls are bare where our posters hung,
Every word still cuts my tongue.
Echoes drip from your old perfume,
Bedroom’s now a broken tomb.

I tell myself I’m fine tonight,
But your ghost still flickers in the light.

Look me in the eye, don’t disappear,
You tore me down, I’m drowning here.
Scars of my youth still burn and peel,
I’m screaming loud — you never feel.

Crowded halls and whispered lies,
Every glance just amplifies.
Crumbled notes still smell like pain,
Every line repeats your name.

I tell myself I’m fine tonight,
But every truth still cuts like knives.

Look me in the eye, don’t disappear,
You tore me down, I’m drowning here.
Scars of my youth still burn and peel,
I’m screaming loud — you never feel.

Saturday lights, flicker then fade,
Every song’s the mess we made.
Plastic dreams, cracked phones,
Now this house feels like a grave.

Call me bitter, call me fake,
All I give is all you take!
Paint my wounds, they shine in red,
Every color I loved is dead!

Look me in the eye, don’t disappear,
You tore me down, I’m drowning here.
Scars of my youth still burn and peel,
I’m screaming loud — you never feel.

You don’t feel…
You don’t feel…
You don’t feel…

Don’t disappear (Emo Rock reload)

Leaves breathe like lungs in smoke,
I step where the shadows spoke.

Branches hum like broken strings,
Moonlight bleeds through silver wings.
Every root remembers pain,
Every whisper knows my name.

Something moves between the trees,
Soft as sorrow, hard to see.

In the forest of monsters, I fade,
Heartbeats melt, the light decays.
Every dream I try to save
Turns to dust beneath their gaze.

Faces bloom from bark and stone,
Eyes like mirrors, never shown.
Steps dissolve in dripping air,
Every silence pulls me there.

Something moves between the trees,
Breathing slow, becoming me.

In the forest of monsters, I fade,
Heartbeats melt, the light decays.
Every dream I try to save
Turns to dust beneath their gaze.

I am the hunger, I am the sound,
I am the roots that pull you down.
No escape, no dawn to find,
The forest grows inside your mind.

In the forest of monsters, I fade,
Echoed screams in green parade.
Every face becomes the same,
Every breath forgets my name.

Leaves breathe…
I disappear…


In the forest of monsters (Shoegaze Rock reload)

One, two, three, four!

I wake up in a borrowed shirt,
coffee cold, my knuckles hurt.
No plan, no prayer, no peace of mind,
just a spark that I can’t hide.

They say I talk too loud,
I say they live too quiet.

I don’t need your grace,
I just need the sound.
If I can’t be right,
I’ll be too loud.
I don’t need a name,
I don’t need your crowd.
I just need to feel alive
before I’m figured out.

City lights blur on my skin,
every siren feels like kin.
They write rules, I burn them slow,
’cause what I am, they’ll never know.

They say I’m bound to fall,
I say I’m built to crash.

I don’t need your grace,
I just need the sound.
If I can’t be right,
I’ll be too loud.
I don’t need a name,
I don’t need your crowd.
I just need to feel alive
before I’m figured out.

Clap your hands, stomp the floor,
I want less talk, give me more.
Every noise I make’s my prayer,
every breath says I’m still here.

I don’t need your grace,
I just need the sound.
If I can’t be right,
I’ll be too loud.
I don’t need your rules,
I don’t need your crown.
I just need to feel alive
before I’m figured out.

I don’t need your crowd (Garage Rock reload)

The entire sound is in my hands. I write cyber poetry, produce, and compose every track ready for Immersive 3D. Every beat is crafted for spatial and next-gen headphones.
Intimate lyrics, total immersion, every track.

For 30 years I kept unfinished demos to myself, never letting them out. Now I finish what I start and release it the moment it’s alive.

I use every tool available, human or machine, as an instrument.
Technology doesn’t replace creativity. It expands it.

I block at the first thing (Indie Rock reload)

Terminalose