Por vezes tenho que encher o meu cérebro de ruído para deixar de presenciar teus lamentos.

Candelabros ao vento, fumaça ao horizonte! Jubilai! Hoje estou por cá!

Quisera contar histórias de outros ventos e perfumes e acabei por me perder numa das curvas. Em contrapartida agora apenas vivo em linha recta. Não sei se será optimismo… Talvez seja apenas a comitiva dos tão loucos quanto eu!

Sonhara quebrar barreiras cozidas a barro e todas as fornalhas acabaram por se virar contra mim. Odiaria ter que voltar atrás para apanhar cacos!

Eu tempo até tenho, não tenho é paciência. Foi a idade que mo disse! Tomara eu não a acreditar em tais preâmbulos. Ou não seria eu tão viciosamente humana.

Gostava de escrever como sinto mas o pensamento é uma fronteira tão defensiva como desprezada.
É uma tristeza quando a peça acaba sem palmas ou argumentos.

Miracles

When everything stings as failure always comes a north wind that recons we are good at it. I’m getting tired of relaxing in some bed of blooded thorns and never issue a complaint.

So here it goes… Never mind... it would never end.

I have to kill this thing I have in me before it destroys my humanity forever.
I rose today with the strangest sense of peculiarity one can force before some cruelty happens. The ghost of insanity remains permanent in my room. One more tormented night by the cold riverside of dreams. It will go down by the middle of the day, when the sunny rays of spring afternoon are allowed to enter. Whenever my bed doesn’t feel my presence. But it will come back, I know.

They call it the miracle of life, I taste it like the fugacious nightmare of surviving death.

Unconscious by the light a little girl sits back and falls asleep forever. Until some wicked man awakes her and lets her choose between the ages or her soul. Never let me grow up please. Let me sleep and dream. Even if what crosses my mind in that state makes a crazy person out of me. Because I hate this world so much you can’t even imagine! Let me stay as I am now. Is that too much to ask? I am my own mind finally! It took a eternity to achieve it. I won’t let anyone rip it away from me!

Winter is Leaving

And so winter is leaving me. Sooner than I expected. Although I’m used to this ritual I go through every year, I never quite accept it as my life.

Why do good things always leave me?
The wind blowing, the rain falling, the ground flooding. Now it’s only in my head for another damned hell-pack of months.

You see, it’s as odd as a cycle that never repeats itself. Well, not the same pattern, only the same meaning. A whole circumference of lost evidences in the past that goes around and around and around… But this time, in the future.

My head is blowing with all these things I don’t remember. She said I did them. But then they said I didn’t. It is all part of the game. And whether I like it or not, it keeps me alive and I’m beginning to like it.

Another message from my throat. She complains about the lack of oxygen. I am choking. Still I can tell it. As I can’t tell anything. It’s getting too much, too way down inside.

Things are changing now, I can feel it. There’s blood.