Keeping Promises #1

Baby you give me too much comfort at night, it's why I end up falling asleep. Waking up sad not seeing your face, safe in the knowledge that one day you'll be next to me when I slowly open up my sleepy eyes. My warm sunshine in the morning. And as expected you'll be asleep, with a smile on your face and your shoulders slightly above the suggested height, because you live shrugging and sighing when I hold you, and it's okay, cos I do the same. I'll appreciate all that you are to me, give your head a kiss and whisper good morning in your ear, even if you don't wake up I'll do it every morning. I'll go make us breakfast, and contemplate what got me here in the first place.

Baby I love you, and you know i'll always be here for you. Sometimes i'll fall asleep but I swear I can't help it, I'm sorry for the times I do. But regardless, i'll be here every hour of every day, just for you. I won't lose interest, I won't get mad at you, I won't control, I won't get upset by you, And I won't stop loving you even if you turn into a blue alien twice my size.

I'll sit on the bed with my legs crossed admiring you, you're beautiful when you sleep. It fascinates me how breath taking this all can be. I can't focus, it's why I slow down in writing and drawing. If I could I would, but I just can't find the words anymore. It has gotten to a point where I feel something for you that is completely unexplainable and unimaginable. All I know is that my daydreams have gotten longer, much longer. I can see myself at night rolling around with you in bed tickling you, I can see you showing me a dress before every date we go on asking "how do I look babe?" making a cute pose, I can see myself telling you you look beautiful (because you always do), and I can see us in bed with loirinha.

I close my eyes and see paradise, orange flashes and warm lips that come greet me in the morning. But that doesn't happen yet, you still aren't here.

I miss you, I miss you a lot actually.

5 months are excruciating sometimes when I think about it, so I don't think about it.

And neither should you, I hate seeing you sad. We can wait, it won't be a problem.

Just promise me that when you get sad you wont hide it from me? Being able to help you is a skill i'm most proud of, so I want to be able to do that for you.

I'm sorry if this isn't as good as the other things i've written.

Love you cupcake

I Give Up On Poetry, It's Frustrating.

Having a voice's worth more than a soul, when you've sold that off for love and rock&roll.

It doesn't matter, let it be. Today there's nothing wrong with me.

And when they come and when they lay, we'll wait for sleep and get away.

These words that flow straight from my lips, they'll jump on paper like vivid ticks.

And when this stops making sense turn it over to side B, this is how I get you to fall in love with me.

I hate poetry, all the rhyme.

It's all too planned, no freedom aligned.

It seems to happen, I think I can

Put a smile on your lips, and a quarter in this can.

With all the talk about "the flow", if I got this skill I just don't know.

I think finally my sky has found a star.

In between the silly smiles and the planned nerd, food, paint wars.

Still got some skills i'm yet to hone.

But I can safely say, where you are is where i'll call home.

And fuck, I can't find anything that goes with "I love you".

I give up on poetry, it's frustrating.

A Little Rusty

They said in the future all my references will be islands covered with moments in time.

I'll turn a page, remember a time and forget where I am.

Turn another to notice just how quick time goes by, or how slow.

I don't understand time, anymore at least.

I had a dream where I stood next to you in the snow by a bridge on a river and told you that less is more. All I said after that was I Love You and nothing else.

And you looked perplexed, maybe joyous even. This was no normal three words, at least not like usual. This wasn't joking, this wasn't with a smile. This was a confirmation, that you're the only one who really matters.

I was wearing a long black coat with shirts and band shirts under it, some rough jeans and a pair of sneakers otherwise unfit for snow. You wore something equally as comfortable.

It upset me slightly that the sun wasn't out, but that wasn't what I focused on.

You turned and gave me a hug, and never let go. I was slightly confused, it's been a while since I've given in to these things. I guess i'm a little rusty.

And maybe it'll take a while before I really realize that there's no one like you, but i'm beginning to get an idea.

A Certain Lack of Orange Flashes

In my mind,

Friends, that I am yet to make

Hearts that I will never break

Lips that I am yet to kiss

A girl that I will always miss.

On the corner,

Notes that I am yet to play

Thoughts that I am yet to contemplate

Outlines I am yet to fill in

And a mattress in which to dream.

Over the mountains,

Planes on which i'll surely hop

A pretty smile making sure I never stop

People to play with at night

I keep my head held high.

Just A Thought

I miss you, have all day.

Just like every other day.

Every second spent on thoughts of you.

I Love You.

The big city lights just aren't the same anymore without you.

The beach is no longer pretty without your presence.

All the poetry in the world couldn't cover it.

I Love you.

I love You.

i Love You.

The Shivers

I walk the snowy northern woods with a rusty shovel on my shoulder, a couple ounces of whiskey left in this bottle. The cigarette on my mouth is wearing out like the clothes covering my body, and despite the protection against the winter they give me, I still shiver. I closed this window to this room a long time ago, and it's still cold. To no surprise of mine these pieces of fabric, (much like the paper wrapped around the cigarette playing phoenix with my mind and lungs and dismay) are being mirrored by these boots on my feet, that buckle finally after so many years of use. I realize the situation is precarious and slightly dangerous perhaps, but I burnt the bridge a long time ago, because I have no sense of strategy.

In the end I should explain that, if these traveling eyes told stories they wouldn't be happy I guess, even the boring days sought after a roborant medicine or poison after the words spoken or real-time images flashed before them. And these ears that over the years were shielded by musical notes have only heard besides them a wave crashing by the pier, birds singing in the morning, a beautiful girl saying "I love you", these feet crushing the well-packed snow as they go by marching towards something important, the cigarette same cigarette as in the start burning away, and a piano key that seems a little off when compared to the many others.

I think it's a curse, placed on me at some point by the past long before I can even remember, maybe my soul is marked by continuous treason against the creator, though I still am confused about his real existence, sometimes though my inner self pleads for an attempt at a prayer to see if these goosebumps that haunt me ever since I was a child will go away, even if for a short day. And I can hear poetry and other things that rhyme going in and out of my mind like fireflies buzzing about. I stop for a second to take a final swig at the whiskey and throw the bottle on the ground so I can keep the cigarette in it and away from my warm tired eyes.

I take this time to wonder about the things in my life, my pros and cons. My love for my girl, my warmth for my friends, my carelessness, my addiction to cheap nicotine, the shivers, the presence that haunts me in my sleep when I lay my head down that falls on the bed like an anvil filled with thoughts as always. So many. I wonder if the souls I just buried under 6 feet of dirt and 2 of snow will come back to haunt me, so I get a little scared and the shivers stop for a brief moment. I think the few coins I have in my pocket to play steel guitar are ready to start jingling again with my hurried pace and fear of a noise I just heard out in the woods.

I had a 20 and the dealer had a 15, I could have said stop and taken home the gold but I said "hit me". Just slipped out like a careless thought to a summer time friend. I sigh and crack a smile at an invisible ally, that exists but isn't there. Much like everything that's perfect in my life, that friend is far away. I left home early and yet, I can still taste the copper taste of sadness and poverty in my mouth swiveling around with the sugary taste of love and pathetic attempts of watering made by a winter dry mouth and lips. The shivers are back and these clothes can't stop them, I just feel tired.

I've gotten out of the woods, and the people in the subway stare at me funny. Over time my ability to not care about opinions faded along with the ability to hold back words that don't harm the souls around me. I slur some words to a T worker about directions to the area my house is in, I've become slightly forgetful with time. I can't remember their answer, so I sit down on a bench outside the station as college kids stare with pity in their eyes, or some sort of console of a kind that I despise. I put my hands covered by my sleeves over my mouth, bend down to my knees and start to daydream, wishing I could find my way back home so she could warm me up tonight.

I fall asleep hoping that the sun of yesterday replaces the clouds of today, tomorrow.

Nevada

Relying on this heart, grabbing hold of a pack of cigarettes half full and a suitcase with the following contents:

Comic books, clothing, a toothbrush, a psp, my ipod charger, and a magazine to show my friends in the other end of the globe that I miss so much.

And we'll go on adventures, and we'll have fun, and we'll drink our livers away.

Or at least they will, I can't anymore.

I'll play the guitar, i'll laugh a little.

But that's all good.

Part of the plan.

Relying on this heart, grabbing hold of a pack of cigarettes half empty and some car keys.

I'll tell you I love you baby, and that i'm going to work. But i'm really not.

The engines will roar somewhere else, and before you can get your shoes on to get to school i'll be in your front lawn (sorry for running over the fence, i'm a little deprived of sleep).

And we'll go around the desert and watch the stars and if it gets a little cold cuz the sun went to sleep i'll just hug you and keep you warm and cute.

It's a little silly, it's a little cheesy. But it's alright, I love you so that's how I get.

I've confessed to mental priests and gone to churches with a liver full of alcohol, lungs full of cigarette smoke and Nevada highway sand, in my mind i'm settling for the basics but I keep my head up cuz the basics are the best things on earth. And if the small things are making me happy and i'm making everyone I love happy, then i've nothing to complain about. Perfections a little far, but only a couple plane tickets away.

Afternoon Verses

My only regret was, is, and always will be

That I can't be there in the afternoons to hold you

Till you fall asleep.

Breakfast in the morning keeps on being lonely still, a recurring theme in my stream of thoughts.

A big city kid hoodie (always) up in these outskirts of towns, don't know how I got here, don't know when the bottle stopped being in my hand. It's alright anyways I don't mind, the weathers too uncomfortable to be holding cold glasses at this time of night.

Sometimes I rhyme, sometimes I don't.

Sometimes i'll try, other times I won't.

What do you think?

And in the end it's like I said, my life's on standby and it ain't starting till i'm by your side babe.

The thunderstorms at night as constant as they may call me up to play lately, just don't seem any fun without you around. I have the patience, we have the time. Still a little hard though not being able to simplify.

What I feel is just a little too strong now to put it in words.

It's okay babe,

I'll hold hands, I don't mind.

As long as that gets me a kiss under the stars at night.

All the notes in the world couldn't speak for me, the colors much less they just warn.

And these words well, these words don't come close and never will. Should give up on trying to make them show you how I feel. But it makes you smile, so i'll keep at it. If I have to hold my head up and grin at tornado coming towards me I will, might get whiplash but it's worth it.

Just hope it throws me far and far away, by your side, even if for just one day.

Daydreams A Little More

Can't find any good lyrics to go along with what I feel for you baby.

Might as well write it all out and speak of my daydreams, like I usually do.

And i'm a little sleepy, so pardon if it gets a little confusing.

I can see our home, tiny downtown apartments always seemed like the best.

With tiny little frames hanging in the walls with no pictures that belong to us because we bought them with the intention of taking pictures but got lazy, so we got strangers pictures for advertising on our walls. It's alright though, never minded that anyways. But thats besides the point, coming home from a long day of whatever I've been doing and you'll be laying up against the couch with a bored smile stamping your pretty face in a big Gym Class shirt we bought when I took you to the show and some odd puffy bunny slippers, flipping through channels or watching reality TV.

And i'll swing by over the couch to give you an upside-down kiss, maybe my headphones will dangle and tickle your face but that's alright it won't last long. Be floating over to the kitchen to do what I enjoy doing in there, getting a little lazy and playing with the magnets on the fridge doors you bought on a trip to the indie stores around the city. I might get myself a beer and lay against the wall looking outside to the kids playing in the streets, thinking about how much I hate my boss and wanna get a break already, but it's alright. You might come by to give me a kiss, i'd like that even if it happened everyday.

We'll have dinner and maybe i'll take you out to a movie, maybe we'll go anywhere you want or we can stay home laying on the couch cuddling watching shitty late night TV, i'll get bored and start tickling you but never letting you get away from my hold, I won't handle how cute I think you are and give you a kiss on the back of your neck, tell you I love you. Cuz I really do.

And on weekends when I ain't got nothing to do we can wake up really late and do some laundry, i'll make you breakfast and you can sleep a little more, we can go hang out with the friends or we can take the subway anywhere you think seems fitting or anywhere I think will make your heart melt. And like I've always said we can come home and eat Chinese food in the living room, I'll get you all the Disney movies in the world so we can watch. We'll be like an old couple but I wouldn't mind that at all baby, at all.

It's just, how I see my life after I kidnap you cutie.

18

Say our lives are roads.

Well I walk along my road with my head down hoodie up, listening to whatever beats are captured by my ears. Why? Good question.

Let's just say tonight my iPod ran out of batteries and I looked up and saw the roads length.

Strength in numbers kid, with that you'll go far.

And I realize my Rome won't be built in 1 day.

It's against myself that I wage war.

And I shouldn't have it any other way.

Wish I could kiss your smile baby.

Wish we could chill out right now man.

Wish we could play with disney character hoodies love.

Funny how everything in our lives is just the reflection the universe sees on the mirror.

Thems Short Words

I'll be swept away by the blades of grass beneath by back as I watch the clouds go by.

And it'll be nice, maybe even peaceful. But there'll always be the problem: that you wouldn't be there. I'll go binge daydreaming and lick salty water on my cheeks, not cuz i'm sad or sleepy.

I'm just getting lazy thinking about you.

I have something to do right now, but I can't remember what.

Still a little dazed from kissing you in my mind.

The couches and beds just seem lonely without you in them. That's all.

And in my mind there'll no longer be a thousand things running, funny how when it's on overload it works better than when it's just filled with simple thoughts by your side. I think it's just that, when i'm calm the world moves slower. I'm sent deep into the streams and go around with the fishes, touch the scales and envy how easily they can go from one place to another. Birds would just kill me with jealousy. Free-will doesn't mean anything when your feet have to stay on the ground.

But when you're on my mind, they are closer to the sky than they have ever been. I'm gonna need some parachutes.

Gifts

Couldn't give you a better gift for the month, I promise i'll get something better than this next month:

Baby I must admit, I miss you so it hurts.

Wish I were around for your ups and your downs.

Kiss your smiles and your frowns.

And if you were ever to cry, if for a sad motive or your strange scary movies.

I'd like to be there to wipe the tears from your face and kiss your nose.

Wanna be there for when you're being cute, hug you.

Sweetheart you're my muse.

Every line I write or draw I dedicate to you.

When I wake up my plans have you in them.

When I stop talking to you, I lay down and think about all the things I could have said, and didn't.

I think after that how much easier it would be if I could just be right in front of you.

I wouldn't say much, but you'd know how I feel, always.

I'd like to know how to start or end these things I say.

But I honestly can't, it just comes to mind and I wish you were here.

I really do, more than anything.

Or actually, I wish I were there.

I don't mind hiding under your bed.

That's all.

These Three Words

Pardon my lazy eyes, they are recovering from my shattered bones.

Pardon my dragged talk, it comes from the lungs that once held back.

I miss you deary, i'd like to say it doesn't bother me but it does.

Every minute of every hour of every day, I feel a burning need.

You couldn't figure out what the tone of my voice would be at this precise moment, writing things has that one particular drawback. But I can say it isn't joking like it usually is, it's sincere. I'm not too good with imagery, but I can say this is one of those moments where I wish I could hug you.

Allow me to rant, please.

I do it every night, I don't know how you don't get tired but I can't help it.

Excuse my compliments to you, it's just that you have no idea just how much you mean to me.

The overall time you came in into my life, and all these other things I can't find words to explain.

I don't want the I Love You to seem repetitive to you, to anyone else it can seem, but not you.

I say it a lot, I know this. But I can't help it, it explodes inside me everyday.

Now I know how fireworks engineers feel minutes before the new years.

If ever you feel as though I've slowed down, or no longer feel excitement.

Don't ever worry about these things. I've got big plans for us.

It's a difficult situation for me, taking away the training wheels from this bike.

But your words comfort me, they really do.

They repeat in my mind, from the second I wake up.

In the end, that's why I can't stop saying those three words. Because you're helping me get through the days. I love you.

So Much To Say, So Little Lines

I come with the spring, just after the snows done falling.

I got a handful of words I plan but forget, this i'll eventually regret.

None of you will mind, its sweet of you but I still wish I could remember it.

I have them for a girl, I have them for my friends.

When I have to say it to myself I do so with success.

But I like waiting for you to come, and you are never around when the words arrive.

It's an unfortunate timing issue. But these words would make you smile so big.

I'm sure of it.

Regardless to my friends, ah.

You are the very air I breathe.

Far away the lungs get foggy and heavy.

You've redefined home, family, and everything in between.

It should be noted that I disregard every thought I've ever had about wanting to be alone.

Without you in my mind i'd have nothing to look forward to in the past couple of years.

God knows it's been tough but i'm a trooper.

And all in all, dealing with a heart break in my defense was very difficult alone.

But I don't complain.

Give me quarters, give me fridge raids, give me late night monopoly.

And i'll be fine, swear.

As for you, I've told you before i'm yet to say all I can about you.

Three words said every night, even if for all the nights that are still to come.

Won't ever be enough for me, i'll crave more, always.

You've gotten me to rethink and see the smaller things again.

You aren't just the girl I love, theres so much more to it.

Everything I want and more, way more.

Drawing the most cliché things from me, but I can't help it, it's just the truth.

And I don't want you just hanging around my dreams.

I want more than that, I want you by my side.

If not everyday, at least whenever possible.

I'll do anything I can for you, just remember that.

For you all, there just aren't enough words.

A Pier

My best friends, they are far away islands I once was close to, sitting on my dingy in the middle of the ocean. Rowing to visit each one, I strayed from course and landed in the middle of the ocean, in a place with a pier popping out of the calm waves with a fishing rod on it's wooden boards.

I placed myself on it's edge and cast my skinny long legs out All Star tips nearly kissing the salty water. I stayed a while, staring at the reflection catching every detail the waves tried to undulate.

I thought long and hard about the times when my feet could step on sand and rock. I thought long and hard about the times when I saw myself a little clearer. And decided that wasn't any less blurry than the images the waves sent me.

A storm had passed, and I found myself a little bored.

So I walked over to the other side and picked up the fishing rod.

I sat back down, same position as I had sat for so many days and nights before this instance. Goosebumps and fears aside I cast the reel in to the farthest depths of the mirror-like water.

There I sat fishing lost for angels in the ocean, the opposite direction one would think.

At times I caught some boots, and it made me wonder if any others were here before me, and wondered if any of them found what they were looking for. Other times I caught fish, but they weren't big enough in my opinion, so I sent them back into the ocean in the hopes that they would grow and eventually someone else like me would show up and reel them in.

I sat for a long time, a long time indeed. In the end I feel a tug and a pull and well, clumsy as I am fell into the ocean.

For all I know, i'm still in it.

But something tells me it pulls and tugs me in the right direction.

Away from the pier, back to the islands.

Just Enough

Two kids were laying on the bed, not that young, but not too old.

I says to you, lady. As we lay here in the darkness of your room staring into open space. Are you staring at the corner of your window with the stars in the sky like me? Or has our kiss immobilized you to such a point where you have no thoughts? I'll give you one to put in your head, in that case. I wanna get the fuck out of this dead-end town. I want to give you right this minute a half hour to pack up your things and we'll leave. If you think i'm just thinking out loud, you are wrong.

Two kids were driving to California in a beat up Chevy, tank full of gas and big city hopes.

Raindrop

Little Raindrop was born on the month of March, at a rainy morning.

His daddy was a healthy man born in the late night thunderstorm.

His ma was a Sunday morning shower, who contented herself on giving couples excuses to not leave the house and just stay in together.

They had met on the ground, as his dad was going down through the gutter in the middle of the crowd on a Boston street he had noticed Raindrops ma sitting there pretty on a cars window. He didn't muster up the courage to go do anything, so she had to be the one to fall down on the ground and come to his lovestruck aide.

I don't need to go on with this part, because this is Raindrops story, not theirs.

Little Raindrop was always an adventurous fellow, he would spend his days going about the entire city block from streets to sewers to any other place where water was welcomed. His fragility didn't bother him one bit, for he feared not the things that could kill him, but the things that blocked his life's roads. The lack of progress was Raindrops main fear at a young age, until he met Bubble. By this point in his life he would never be the same.

The story of Raindrop and Bubble, is as cliché as any other, but thats how it always happens.

He was sitting out on front a convenience store, it had been a rainy April afternoon. And across from him there was an old woman washing her clothes the old fashioned way. He was impressed at her fury towards the clothes as if she were discounting her problems on those poor unaware pieces of cotton fabric that just wanted to serve their purpose without any domestic violence.

With all her fury, bubbles started forming, and one rebelled. Her name was Bubble, and she had been born from an abusive relationship between an old woman and some pieces of fabric. Though Raindrop'll tell you she never enjoyed discussing her past.

Now as far as the rest of the story goes, nothing special happens. At least not to you, reader. Mainly because, despite the odds of such a thing happening, it doesn't stop this from not being Hollywood. Raindrop doesn't fuck up (he loves her too much to do so). Bubble doesn't get her heart broken, doesn't break his heart. They just stay together, enjoying each others company, meeting under the rainbows in the Spring showers. There are no villains who attempt to break them apart, there are no bored souls trying to take advantage of Bubble when she is saddened by a fight with Raindrop, and the same goes for him. Then again there are no fights, they have yet to find a reason to be that way.

This is just how it goes. You can't blame me for them having struck gold.

If anything, shame on you for expecting so much from water based things.

Another Rant

Allow me to talk a little more, about, well, anything.

It's kinda funny, ironic, and slightly romantic in a sense how we are currently living. Me in the land where the sun shines but does little other than burn for my mood, experiencing a little loneliness day by day in the morning when I wake up and realize i'm yet to catch you laying next to me sleeping brandishing that pretty face of yours. It's a little saddening, but it's so pleasing.

It sounds silly, I can imagine you over the stove making some sort of food you want to surprise me with. Me popping my head over your shoulder to take a peek, hands on your hips.

Although you probably won't let me see until it's done.

And I keep on asking myself what had I been doing before we met? I can barely remember right now, my mind gets clouded. I fear these words might start sounding the same. But I can't help it!

I try to please you, and put a smile on your face. And i'm confident I've been doing so. Feeling that, is the greatest accomplishment next to seeing you right now.

I'll shorten now, Too many things to say and I need to control myself so I don't say them all and spoil the surprise.

The Morning Thoughts

Today I woke up and realized that:

No ones next to me.

You can't wait for others to solve your life.

Only those you love really matter.

My life isn't as bad as it seems.

I smoke too many cigarettes.

I'm in love.

Today I woke up and realized that:

You make my dreams seem real.

I think about you even when it seems incapable of having thoughts.

I love your smile.

You make me the happiest strange boy in the world.

I can't help but fast forward to 3 months from now.

I enjoy your company more than I enjoy cocoa crisps.

Today I woke up and realized that:

You are my friends.

I miss your mac&cheese.

I miss your strange tales.

I appreciate the years we've known eachother.

I don't know how you got a blue fender.

I don't know how time managed to pass by so quickly.

Today I woke up and realized that:

I want to be your best friend when you get older.

You are confused, and it's sad.

You are a hypocrite and have no place to give me advice.

You are a person I respect, and feel bad for.

I fear having you know who I am, so I won't.

You are all driving me insane.

The Daydream That Counts Words

'Till I see you i'll daydream, i'll daydream about the days we'll spend together.

My heart will race, my insides will freeze up. Time will stop, and i'll walk away from myself for a second to observe it.

Possibly, i'll get nervous and ahead of myself. And in that situation, say things that will go beyond what I want to say, that might make you smile, that might make me comfortable.

No one will watch us, because they'll be paying attention to other things in their world. But i'll always feel like they do. And i'll shy away, turn into a wave, come back and maybe kiss you.

I'll hunt for your smiles, I don't need to but i'll try extra hard to be one of the greatest things that happened in your life. I'll surrender to every single desire you may have, I might give in and fall for you.

I'll beg for the winters to come by quick, so I can have a good excuse for us to stay in.

I'll admit to summer as being times we do spectacular things together, and spring and fall will fit into our schedules somehow, we'll try.

But in the end year round the fact is, you just get better.

On rainy days i'll spend my time trying to find good words to sway you.

And we can save the sunny days for doing laundry.

Because our inside jokes just never cease to put a smile on me.

Overall without trying to put weight on your shoulders i'll put down my heavy shields for a second and say you are the best reason for getting up in the morning i've had in many years.

When I get by with a little help from my friends and feel at 99%, you come by and add one more.

I still get the feeling that you make me think anything is possible no matter how insane it seems. And I enjoy that, I enjoy that the most. Or it's tied, possibly tied with other things I completely adore about you and who you are. I'll bring you into my little world, because of all this, and i'll spill out more of these silly sounding words.

And despite the past 392 words, I can't bring myself to say 3 more without you being around.

A Midnight Poem, That Chooses Not To Rhyme

I want to wake up in the mornings and realize my marriage wasn't a farce.
I want to love my children and my job.
I want my society to have more love, less hate.
I want to be like the guy next to me
But I want him to not be oblivious to all around him.

I want the sun to come out when it's best for me
And I want the skies to cloud when I stay up all night
I want to smile a little more, at the world I see
I want to smell fresh cut grass, even when i'm smoking.
And I want you to see me, like I see you.

I want the skies to turn pink every time we are together.
I want a time when we're together to come soon.
I want to be able to fast-forward not just my watch,
But the time around me along with it when I do.
I want to make you smile more often, and those kinds of things.

I want to take a day, to spin around the middle of nothing.
With thoughts that mirror the landscape.
I want to write beautiful things that play with the words
I want to sing songs that will forever ring in your ears
I want to paint things that will be your sight for years.

But in the end, all I really want is to be me
No strings attached I want to be real and keep at it till I can't
I want to spin you around along with me, everyone.
I want to take the time to write a little more about me
Without having to worry what people think, or why they do so.

La Existencia Humana

Existem, pensamentos. Alguns que passam rapido e não dão tempo de anotar, e alguns que ficam impregnando a mente de qualquer pobre coitado que se deixa passar por momentos de fraqueza. Existem também aqueles que duram uma eternidade quando voce anda pra praia de noite olhando pro mar, e não existem pensamentos quando se anda na orla de dia. Aqueles que tentam existir, se misturam com outros pensamentos que já vieram ou ainda vão passar, e nada acaba acontecendo. E você, simplismente se encontra olhando pro céu esperando alguma garota passar e te dizer alguma coisa absolutamente linda, de tirar o folego.

Existem, amores. Alguns eternos, outros nem tanto. Nunca se pode contar nos dedos o numero de vezes que o coração bate ao ver qualquer pessoal, a não ser que você não tem coração, apesar que neste caso você não pode ler isso e provávelmente está morto. E nesse caso, isso não se aplica à você, me desculpe. Existem amores divertidos, que são aventuras entre duas pessoas (consideradas geralmente pela sociedade ao redor como Idiotas) que são felizes juntas. E existem amores sérios, todo mundo fica de cara amarrada e sem a menor demonstração de afeto verbal. Mais isso não quer dizer que não é amor, não entendo bem mais também nunca me entenderam. Por tanto, estamos quites.

Existem, dores. Aquelas que fazem as veias vibrar feito cordas de violão espanhol, e aquelas que deixam no chão o touro mais forte chorando. Ambas fazem o ser querer ficar inconciente. Mais isso acontece, somos só humanos, infelizmente nenhuma perfeição se encontra no momento pros corpos ou mentes.A não ser que você é o sujeito sem coração, nesse caso você sente muito pouco talvez nada. E de novo me desculpe, pois esse trecho não se aplica à você, se ao menos tivesse uma memória poderia se juntar pra ter um pouco de nostalgia, mais nem isso tem, pois os vermes já comeram tudo, pobre coitado.

Existem noites, dias, tardes.
Existem beijos existe amor existe vida.
Existe tudo, existe nada, existe tudo no meio do nada.
Existe poesia existe musica, arte, filmes na madrugada com você.
Existem animais, plantas, insetos, mamiferos, reinos, democracias.
Existem casais dançando na chuva com sorrisos no rosto, sorrisos bobos, existe beleza feiura.
Existem pessoas cansadas da vida, existem pessoas cheia de vida pra dar.
Existem doentes, saudáveis, pessoas, vivas ou mortas existem.
Eu existo se você existe, existe vice-versa.

Por fim, mais uma vez: Existe amor, existe vida.

Rants Sequel

Can't write much, can't think.
My bodys a little weak, I just woke up, it happens.
Can't tell you if it's normal or not but lets not talk about it.
I'll never understand what you see in this country, the people in it freak me out a little.
But it helps that if it were anywhere else, I wouldn't see you.
And we're even, because i'll never understand why I want to put all the people that have passed by my life in a suitcase, and take them anywhere I go.

And i'd take you too, if it were alright with you.
To a place sorrounded by beaches, an island if you will.
Where every corner feels like home, it only rains when it's best for us.
The comics stores sell all our favorite chocolates.
Preferably a place with no centipedes.

Nerds

Do que me adianta essa saudade
Que quando bate e rebate
Me deixa desesperado, sem chao.
E quando volta, haja coracao.
Me agradam seus sorrisos, o seu jeito maravilhoso de ser. E o que me mata nao é fica distante e sim ficar sem te ver. A distancia perto de ficar sem contato aliás, até tem cara de paraíso perto disso.

À imaginação agrada a idéia de ficar com você na praia com o nascer do sol e nossos desenhos na areia. Uma mão minha que encontra uma sua e os sorrisos sem jeito que aparecem brilham como as estrelas que horas atrás faziam fila no céu pra embelezar nossas memórias nos dias que vão vir depois desse.

Pra que me adianta esse sufoco?Que só vai embora no dia que eu te encontrar ao lado da linha vermelha da minha infancia e adolescencia. Quero te mostrar tudo isso.
Meu deus é tanto que quero te mostrar e tão pouco tempo pra ver tudo. Não sei se gasto um pouco desse tempo tentando te impressionar ou emocionar com palavras bonitas que com tempo aprendi.

E eu queria te dizer mais, paginas e paginas de coisas que já foram ditas por poetas melhores e mais velhos que eu. Mais tudo que sai não só já foi dito, mais continua sendo verdade.
Me agrada muito o que sinto por você.

Letter

Thank you friends, for keeping this light on.
Despite my coming and going so frequently and being unpredictable, you have stood by me for interesting moments. Needless to say i've discovered rain.
And if in the end, the people on the streets are still scared of me or think differently of who I am without knowing me, thats okay.
I think in the end what we most need is to rediscover the beauty in life, that exists without our knowledge. A special eye for these massive events that seem ever so... Tiny.

For most of my life, i've seen myself as a wind. That comes without warning of any type and enters the homes to put out all the candles. By the time you light them all, there I am standing over you with a joking smile and candy. I'll leave the same way, and hope it doesn't upset you.
I'll write for all of you, i'll draw for you all. When you get down, i'll shove you in a rocket to the moon. When you feel sad, i'll knock you over into the sea so you can hide the tears. Hug me if need be, rant to me if you wish.

I'll do my best to revolutionize, but make no promises.

Friends new or old, strange or normal, etc. I will love you all the same.
In my absence, remember this please. Even with my poetry weakened by the rain, and my words senseless, I will try my best to help.

Rants

Very little rests, i've been slaughtered roaming the empty streets and have seen little of those who have commited this said crime, leaving me with a small choice of words to choose from.
You see, the feelings that have come over me still reflect as waves that drown me. I can't even taste the salt anymore. My thoughts are empty and i've seen little outside since coming in here. The windows get foggy in the cold weather and I feel no motivation to clear them up. Even with the hopes that outside there'll be a friendly face waving hello.

A weakness that deepens the despair, little of which I know of, it's a fairly recent feeling.
Not that those around my wavelengths don't care, they could possibly. But over the years the last thing i'll remember are their valiant efforts to put a smile on my face. They'll be forgotten by a force bigger than myself that will re-blend their faces in the crowd, like grains of sand in a desert. Teeny tiny i've been stepped on, but don't complain.

I'd dance by myself but theres no music, just alot of sleep to be done. And I calmly walk along the shore, wondering why after all these years i'm back here. There isn't much here for me, is there? No bigger forces trying to teach me anything, soft work and low expectations. They'll wonder what happened to my dreams, the same I wonder all nights and days. But no one warned me of such an episode taking place in my rocky life.


In the end, I wreck my mind.

Damn

I'll scream for a little freedom and they'll send me distant angels bearing gifts for my restless heart. If I bite, a fish dragging his bait against the jetstreams. And i'll do it, chances are.
Our memories will rush through my mind and hit like rain drops on the back of my head.
Walking on the streets feeling the moist concrete against my soles, missing you in the big city.
Bent spines will straighten in situations where the vocal cords have to quiet down thunderstorms.

Head against the pillow debating with the masterminds, not many kids to talk to in these four walls but my shadow and reflection will sometimes answer to my pleas. Walking back and fourth trying to keep my impatience down while you insist on walking over the bridges here instead of flying. I stop my mental rant to note down an old mans despair over life, not that he's told me anything about his life but as he sits his drink down on the table and has a staring contest with the sky... Something he hasn't done in his life haunts me.

I try to write the right thing down, but the goosebumps from the cold winds stop me from thinking too far into it.

Grant St. Summers

You shy away, quiet down away from me.

I hit you up with a smile and pass the ball, uneffected by the sorrow.

The situation becomes more difficult, tension resides in the room that once harbored summer.

With a dead silence and birds on the outside peeking in to see the future of this.

We collide.

The cloud of sadness squirms away unfortunate about the smiles overtaking us

Lips moving closer as we hear the cardiac drum beats of our chests

The moment that once halted our systems

Now lets out jets of blood through the veins

Young, and restless.

It's been ten years since 1999 dear, and I still tilt my hat before leaving off to work with headphones shielding me from the world outside of our nest. Summer or not theres a hoodie always covering these tired shoulders, let it be winter soon, I want a valid excuse to stay home more often these days. Still feeling bad about not being able to join you in bed at the same time, i'm always later with these projects of mine, juggling our life with much love in mind and pencil lines up and down turning into the sounds of spraying up and down the streets.

And these footsteps I follow, a little loose and confusing even to myself, will keep me following alongside with the... hold on. I rushed, jumped the gun. Let's start over.

We're made of patience, more you than me. I'm still in a soap box racer going down my old childhood street with no goggles trying to beat all the kids by any means necessary. And you're still at the end of the road daydreaming. It's been like this since I can remember, and I wouldn't have it any other way. We maintain an innocence once forgotten by me, with a loss of faith in the world we live, but your winter nights have changed all of this for me. And it ain't a thank you note, it's a memo. Something to remind you that i'm always here for you, regardless of the circumstances.

You'll find it weird, but it's the way I am.

Rants.

I must at all times choose a reality, from many.

If one happens to seem slightly broken, then I should move onto the next one.

I'm not exactly one to really give a fuck, when all is said and done I get the short end of the stick.

And it's not very pleasant, no sir. But I keep my chin up, it's a helpful way to do things yes. Although the frustration just makes me hungry, and I feel like singing. I miss the sky, I dream of big ones, full of millions of stars. I wouldn't believe in them if I hadn't seen one with my very eyes. Back in days when my mind wouldn't melt on a daily basis and spend it's hours in panic about life. Those were fairly wonderous times, i'll admit. Between that and sitting by myself with some snacks at the pier watching the sunset, I have a hard time choosing. In the back of my head I can hear some guitar solos, and someone scratching my skull with a prison knife. So many complaints, so many issues, problems, hungers, pains. So much insatisfaction, and disapointment, and images of miniature violins playing in a white background.

But that isn't me, I maintain my optimistic nature. Or I try, at least.

For all I know I barely know where i'm headed next.

The Rats

The blinding flashes, a girl dances with a red dress whose curves catapult raindrops like scalpels at the eyes of all admirers. With war paint that goes over and under the corneas and strangles a quick fix at a view of beauty and obsession, strange events that will forever stain the already distorted minds of all scavangers who came to this place for a perverse smile and a thud. He is so nervous that the sweat drips from all the pores and the rage that will fill him opens a door into a world he never knew before. Where the ravens hunt and stab their beaks at the half alive skin of a man who's crossed the most vast of deserts to be here, but never made it.

"I will take you with me" he whispers softly into her ear, a soundwave that cuts open the sewn eyes and leaves them wide with unspeakable fear, if only she had the courage to summon up a "run" those that one day stood there wouldn't be scattered across the wet concrete of that big city street. And perhaps tonight there would be no bloody pieces for the rats in the sewer to feast on. He cannot take the mistake to the grave if there was no mistake, he was sure of this as something he wanted and cannot and will not be blamed for it. The hell he saw after closing his eyes this afternoon before the meat show was of such an impact on his once pure soul that he could not handle such a truth.

And after the spectacle he rose from the debris and brushed his shoulders that now felt the ache of a love now lost. Raising his head he saw lined before him all of the underworlds angels standing still as statues with heavy metal slabs chained to their faces, the strange comfort that brought him the unknown words of his lifes new narrator. He took a deep breath slightly overtaken by fear and walked towards the malicious auras, leaning slightly to the right due to what felt like a broken rib he managed to pick the third of the apparently evil minions that stood paciently before him as if he could take all the time in the world. Standing face to face with him, or perhaps her, the winged torture hugged him with a force unlike any other he felt in his life.

And now the blood that pours will trickle down the paths and find its way into the hearts.

Miss the Beats

Tenho de declarar algo sobre a saudade.

Que bate como mar no coração e me tira da realidade.

Com chuva colorida, cada pingo sua cor

Bate forte, cai no chão, e faz barulho de tambor.

Que alegria que me tras coração? Noticias de saudades distantes e próximas sem dor. Mereço tal honra? Ou talvez quem sabe sou apenas sortudo. Contanto que me dê o prazer de sentir isso por mais tempo não lhe questiono. Só peço que você me conte mais, pois é do meu interesse ter sonhos bons. Sozinho ou com quer que seja vou sentar diante as luzes frias da noite e deixar minha vista visitar as estrelas mais distantes, deixo elas de férias enquanto contemplo a saudade que bate nesse meu coração.

As crianças já se deitaram, brincaram a noite toda com seus foguetes e máscaras de baile.

Dançaram até a meia-noite da vida nesse carnaval eterno que é a existencia humana. E agora

restam nós, sem sono tentando tornar as imagens da terra em palavras, ou talvez um sentimento. Tento hoje pois amanhã não vou me lembrar, vou apenas esquecer como todas as noites passadas. As palavras vem se escorrendo da mente até o papél como lágrimas de alguém que acabou de ler uma carta de algum querido distante que vem visitar logo. Vem escorrendo conforme a multidão desce esse morro gritando cantos de alegria.

E eu que me achava sem tempo pra tais coisas me vejo hoje nos prazeres mais simples dessa vida que me deram. Claro que não ouso deixar o merito todo desse momento com a saudade, existem outras coisas nesse jogo também. Só talvez por coincidencia a saudade me visita hoje. Não me preocupo com razões ou por ques, só sei que estou feliz com isso. O que antes era raro me parece tão comum que eu me preocupo menos, me libero do mal que antes me fazia toda essa agonia de dormir todas as noites só, sem ter ninguém ao lado ou ao menos no pensamento. Não ouso tentar explicar como sinto, já é dificil exigir palavras pra explicar a saudade, seria tortura pra minha mente tentar construir um dicionário novo pra mim mesmo.

A preguiça que dá tentar terminar o pensamento, aquele swing hereditário ou a alegria

em volta distante de mim. E por isso a tendencia é de voltar, naturalmente, como o mar. O mesmo que, depois de tantos anos ainda não me cansa todas as vezes que vejo todas as noites que vou ao seu lado pra pensar em qualquer coisa que me agrade. Tão cedo fui, tão tarde vou. E com tudo isso não tem tempo pra tratar dessa saudade por enquanto, olho pra ela com a cara mais otimista que tenho e penso que, sem ela, não teria um coração que bate tão forte pra dar impulso, e acabar com toda aquela distancia entre mim, e tudo aquilo que amo tanto. Por isso vou ao som da chuva feliz, seguindo a trilha da linha na estrada até a felicidade, com um exército imaginário atras de mim.

Anonymous Love Letter #5

...Estou convencido que tudo que faço não tem nenhum propósito sem você.

É que os dias que gasto desenhando na areia com um palito de sorvete estão contados e eu sei que um dia vou ter que ir embora. Talvez eu sabia desde o inicio que não ia ter você ao lado mais sei lá, a esperança é a última que vai embora. Reconheço que isso é estupidez e tento esconder e talvez quem sabe levar numa boa com um pouco de sorte e o coração no bolso. Queria eu inverter a situação, só que essas coisas não acontecem na vida.

Tento não reclamar, tento entender o por que e garantir que não é nossa culpa. Mas enfim, quero que saiba que questiono sempre o motivo de minha mudança. Não entendo afinal por que tive que ir embora quando sabia que tinha algo bom. Só que é minha vida, sabe? Não consigo parar quieto, não consigo me acostumar. Talvez essa seja a parte mais dura de uma vida como a minha. Seria melhor eu ser um nativo preso na terra pensando que deus está usando o liquidificador na cozinha, preparando pra mim uma vitamina de frutas, ou será que acho que mereço ser um cidadão do mundo? Não é por arrogancia, somente curiosidade jovem.

Quero ao menos mais uma noite? Em baixo da sacola de lixo que anjos infantis furam com seus bisturis, com você. Te dizer tudo que quero sem falar absolutamente nada. Ser direto e te dar mil beijos, ignorando o fato que naturalmente sou muito timido pra fazer algo assim. Quero fazer tudo que tenho medo até de fazer, pra talvez enfiar na sua cabeça que não vou embora pra sempre. Vou parar por aqui, não consigo mais me concentrar no meio da fumaça de cigarro e risadas no fundo e minhas dores de cabeça estão voltando. Talvez todo esse realismo me faça bem e um dia canso, volto.

Te amo.

Letter to A Friend

Hello there Patrick, my dear Irish friend.

I write to you reminding that the season of the vermillion flowers is upon us in this part of the country. The romantics you so dearly hate have returned, with the same attitude of kissing eachother and loving that we both laughed at so whole-heartedly. Ah yes friend, without you things are slightly more difficult to enjoy, but that is the same situation with all the friends that have come and gone due to different destinies than mine. With that I say: It's okay, you are free to go so long as our friendship remains in your heart and mind.

The lady of the convenience store has passed away, I almost miss the hate she harbored for me, to this day I do not understand it considering i've done nothing to her. But some things are inexplicable. In case you wonder, me and Janet are no longer together. We ended what we had, if we had anything to begin with. I don't miss her the slightest, but I worry she misses me. Not to play the arrogant part, but it is just who I am. I dislike hurting people, even if they attempt to harm me. Perhaps I should stop worrying and return to my old ways. Let us just hope all this negativity goes away and I may return to a more relaxed state.

I could blame this on the valentines. But I won't.

Canto Curto do Carnaval de Fim Julino

Meu coração é cheio de confeti e dentro dele todo dia é carnaval. Dança sozinho, mas faliz. Bate coração, leva que é tua essa alegria. Bate e grita que hoje o dia é seu. Coração de garoto pouco me importa como ou quanto você bata. Só me faça a promessa que vai bater forte e feliz no swing da nossa vida. É essencial que bata coração. É essencial que ame, que se aventure, e que continue acreditando no amor mesmo se mais nenhum acredite. E quando encontrar alguém. Uma folga pra você, meu coração esforçado.

E depois desfile com a sua amada, até o fim desse carnaval eterno que é a nossa vida. Quero enquanto isso me perder nos prazeres mais simples da vida. E se quiser vou até tocando tambor pelas estradas me juntando na marcha do tempo. Se não todos pelo menos alguns vão lembrar do nosso esforço de mantes o amor mais puro no mundo, cheio de sorriso e samba. Vamos pela rua que hoje não passa carro, o vazio imaginário da cidade de São Paulo. Por isso bate coração. Bate que é tua essa alegria. Leva ela e mostra pro mundo como é bom amar.

Coincidence

Ela era boa, amava tudo e todos. Um coração de ouro, uma cabeça fraca.

Eu amava ela, e ela me amava. Só que com mudanças e outras coisas, a vida ficava dificil.

Uma felicidade, que nos parecia eterna. Passavam-se horas em frente da televisão rindo, a inocencia que lembro dela me deixa um tanto em transtorno, com uma saudade que bate quenem maré. Eramos um feito pro outro, em meio do sorriso dela diante da minha preocupação. Queria eu pelo menos saboriar mais uma vez, talvez antes de partir, uma noite com ela de novo. Acordar ao lado dela, rir com o susto que levava quando me via olhando pra ela. Ela entendia, as outras não.

Nunca na minha vida fui tão feliz, te juro. Ela me ensinou que o amor existia, e que não era só coisa dos livros grandes que eu sempre li. Me ensinou que as lagrimas dos filmes eram falsas e frias, as verdadeiras sabiam queimar o rosto como chuva de fogo. Nunca sorri com tanto gosto, nunca em minha vida tamanha alegria tomou conta de tudo, de todas as reações até mais comúns. Até coisas que eu odiava passei a amar. Uma verdadeira revolucionária. É tolo pensar tudo isso de um simples romance adolescente, mas foi lindo, o fato é esse. Nunca os problemas foram tão pequenos, nunca tudo foi tão simples.

Algumas coisas nessa vida, duram. Outras, não. É um fato que temos que encarar. Com tempo o coração foi ficando pequeno, e a dor maior. O piano que tocava na sala passou a tocar notas de tristeza em vez de alegria. E quando o coração não aguentava mais a mudança, quando virou aço puro. Não deu pra evitar. Em meio da escuridão te deixei na neve ao lado do lago e fui andando, e nunca mais.

El Destino

Hola querida, desejo lhe responder à pergunta que me fez na festa mês passado, aquela no Rio com nossos queridos amigos do peito. Você queria saber por que andava tão confuso, tão estranho, tão aparentemente fraco? Sim pois, eis a resposta que vou lhe dar, e talvez a honestidade das palavras seja muita, mas conhecendo você não vai ser suficiente.

Desde que partiu, o amor me deu as costas, junto com meu juízo. Então tento seguir qualquer caminho, pra ver se consigo achar pistas pra onde foi o meu amor, ou pelo menos o bom senso por qual sou tão bem conhecido. Sigo tudo bem assim, no batuque lento e "à lá Bossa" do meu coração. Talvez um dia acho, ou quem sabe, talvez não. Só sei que por estas razões não consigo ser o mesmo, ter o mesmo sorriso no rosto que simplesmente diz "e que venha a vida, com tudo" como antigamente.
Se te deixa triste isso, talvez lhe conforte se dizer que continuo nos meus desenhos. Mesmo que sejam milhares e milhares de páginas com rabiscos todos querendo reconstituir uma parte de quem eu nunca mais vou ser sem você. O que me resta além de uma caneta cheia de tinta ao lado de um papél na minha mesa da sala, talvez sejam as festas dos nossos amigos, aonde talvez fico bêbado o suficiente pra cometer qualquer burrice que tire de mim uma dor que não mereço. Ou talvez, quem sabe, mereço sim.
Você não vai achar graça, eu vou: continuo com meus hábitos, fumando como uma chaminé, sentado na mesma cadeira do restaurante paulista assistindo os jogos do Santos todos os domingos tomando dose de Cuervo. Você sempre disse que isso era estúpido, e eu sempre disse que era a única coisa que me fazia lembrar que também sou humano como todos os outros. Por isso quando mandar esta carta pra você vou rir quando pensar na sua cara de raiva quando ler esta parte.
Caso esteja curiosa, ainda tenho sim minha casa no México. Ao contrário do que sempre lhe dizia antes do nosso romance, as mexicanas não me encantam. Receio em lhe dizer que depois que qualquer homem neste mundo tem você, ele não quer mais ninguém. E se te perde, fica sem saber se quer viver. Como se estivesse no lugar de um caiçara que perdeu as mãos, qual é seu destino agora? De qualquer forma continuei, tonto de tanto beber e um tanto cego pela fumaça do meu próprio cigarro? Sim. Mas mesmo assim fui caminhando.
Cheguei no meu destino tão querido? Sim. Mas cheguei como você pensa: Confuso sobre o que vem depois de tudo isso, estranhando tudo e todos em volta de mim, e enfraquecido por ter gasto todas as minhas forças tirando você da minha cabeça pelos últimos 20 anos. E mesmo assim você nunca saiu. Não reclamo. Enfim, o que seria da vida do artista sem um pouco de dor?

Short.

He will call her for an invite to the beach.
She will go to hear him delightfully preach,
That the life that they lead isn't mechanical.
That all creatures are of free will.
And that common man is hysterical.

Part-time lovers, always racing.
Set the stage for hours of dancing.
Only to go home and lay down.
Seperate homes, mates, each to his own.

There will be no situation where the heart of a man slithers from under his ribs. Much less a situation where a womans head will be changed. So we move on, turtle steps. So we will forever find a reason or situation to love eachother. And in the end we will all cherish the departed, in old age.

The Drug Addict (stories from beyond the trampo)

Theres a drug addict from where i'm standing. He's looking into the open space needlessly as if god himself will appear and talk to him about divine intervention. He's oblivious to everything. The people who pass by and stare at him, the annoying background music being sung by a lady who has no voice and obviously lacks lyrical ability of any sort.

He'll only distract himself with 2 minute trips to the bathroom to snort some cocaine. It's funny the things people do in public restaurant bathrooms. It's mean but still, it's hard not to laugh at such a situation. The addict has an addicted wife, she's 15. She does the same thing when she comes here with them, they are just like eachother. Who says opposites attract?
Love, it comes in all shapes I guess. I don't envy them, and don't envy the drugged up violent sex they have, it must suck.

Coma rants.

Sex, drugs, rock, roll, sickness, booze, cigarettes, strip clubs, trumpets, fear of change, too much change, strange effects, xtc, thc, 123, 151, shots, laughter, chains, whips, gouging, gagging, moaning, groaning, coughing, vomiting, eyes, open, close, regret, and a teenage girl wrapping her fingers and deepthroating her 22 year old cousins cock while he watches the football game.
Score.

Controversy, politics, war, peace, blindness, unrest, bombs, gunshots, cries, screams, card games, insanity, music, jeeps, tanks, bullets, Soldier holds gun to a female civilian pleading in a dark corner, unbuckling belt.
Pregnancy.

My generation has an option for every person, it's cool and forgives. I'll lead a politically incorrect life for the fuck of it, cautionless and careless to the words I lay down where ever they may rest. But they'll somehow make the ones who pick them up very restless. For in the end:
God knows I hate bubble gum wrappers.

Palavriado de bar.

Uma vez que se perde a alegria, é substituida temporáriamente pela infelicidade, daí vai se perdendo a amizade dos amigos mais impacientes e depois dos inesperados, você é trocado por alguém mais útil pra sociedade moderna, enquanto sua infelicidade é trocada pela solidão. Você caro amigo é apenas mais um de milhões em ilhas solitárias, chorando eternamente pelo leite derramado da sua vida.

Uma vez perdido o medo, se perde também a fé, e come isso se ganha coragem. Coragem pra fazer de tudo, inclusive as coisas que sua sociedade denomina de loucura. A decepção não existe no seu próprio desvio da vida conformista (vida, "Normal") e sim no fato que ninguém entende que é essa "Loucura" que lhe da forças pra continuar com essa vida que você leva. Talvez um dia entenderão você, por enquanto não.

Uma vez que o amor vai embora, junto com ele vai a própria razão de viver. Se não abre as portas sombrias a cinzas à perda da própria vida infeliz, se vai aquilo que te deixava por um fio, a esperança em tudo.

E lhe digo mais, sem o amor a vida se torna um fluxo constante de ódio pelo prósimo e eterna desconfiança. Que talvez seja a melhor coisa a lhe restar, pois nessa nossa geração os corações são muito modernos pra terem noção de vontade de amar, nos resta apenas noites solitárias ao lado de uma garrafa ou uma transa contínua com estranhos em qualquer canto a qualquer hora que você quiser.

Deva

Devastadora, o centro da minha criatividade, é você.
Um passo pra frente, cinco pra trás, é você.
Rosto triste na TV, eu vejo você.
E quando as palavras me faltam, quem é a culpada?
Você.

Usuário, quem paga o preço desse romance unilateral?
Sou eu.
Viciado, quem não aguenta mais pedir esmola nas calçadas do próprio coração, sou eu.
O destinado a ver o sol ao mesmo tempo que você, chora quando você ri, sou eu.
Sozinho no próprio reino, saqueado e desolado, Sou eu.

Nossa história, ignorada nas festas mais badaladas como apenas mais 2 minutos com um refrão disnecessário, só mais tempo pra alguém embebedar uma alma que se diz inocente e secretamente bebe mais do que devia pra poder se livrar da noção que queria pela primeira vez alguém que gostasse dela de verdade.

Slow Beats

Ao acordar toda manhã, demoro um pouco pra sair da cama com uma esperança que o quanto mais eu ficar em casa mais chance tenho de alguém bater na minha porta me chamando pra sair, ir embora pra qualquer lugar e nunca mais voltar pra vida original que eu tenho. As chances disso acontecer são muito pequenas, com certeza por causa disso a pessoa a fazer isso conquistaria o meu pequeno coração em um instante.

Sociedade timida, essa. Ninguém te chama pra brincar à noite, ninguém abre o coração pra te falar o quanto te amam, ou pelo menos não até ser muito tarde. Amar cada dia fica mais dificil, mais impossivel, menos provavel, e diminui a esperança. Me ensinaram como amar, acho que com isso fica mais dificil eu aprender a aguentar uma vida sem precisar dessa lição. Não sei mais se devo perder a fé ou ter mais.

Sei que não é bem aceito na sociedade, só gostaria que um dia da vida pelo menos alguém me dissesse que tudo vai ficar bem, em vez de eu ter que falar isso pra pessoa. Seria tão agradável ser abraçado pelo menos uma vez, deitar com alguém não pra transar, e sim pra receber algum curativo por todas as dores que senti e continuo sentindo no corpo que já cansa de andar por esse mundo procurando alguém. Pelo menos uma vez quero ser carregado em vez de carregar.

Cansei de ser líder, cansei de ter que entrar primeiro pra chamar a pessoa me esperando lá fora. Cansei de saber tudo, cansei de resolver problemas, cansei da rotina, cansei de qualquer coisa que faça qualquer tipo de sentido pra qualquer pessoa, cansei de calcular, cansei de ter que ser a pessoa que conta histórias de noita pra alguém dormir, cansei de ter que escolher os filmes na locadora todo sábado, quero que alguém escolha por mim.

Queria alguém pra ficar comigo essa noite, a noite de amanhã, e todas as noites que estão vindo ainda pela frente (bem além do céu estrelado que vejo todas as noites antes de dormir mais uma noite sozinho nessa cidade abandonada). Quero alguém que me entenda, que não reclame do jeito que sou, e que não questione o meu jeito de lidar com as coisas. Quero uma pessoa que saiba que pra mim é só eu e ela, e o resto não tem nenhuma importancia ou relevancia.

Tonight?

When the kids are sleeping, when the foxes have gone into their holes and the drunks have stumbled back to bed, I want you to come with. Enjoy the time we have to spare and let's be the only ones to keep the moon and the stars company. Put on your prettiest threads and don't forget your 3D glasses, tonight we'll stay up for the orange San Fran sunrise from a different view.

I can't tell you what we're doing tonight, all I can say is tomorrow we'll wake up with sand between our feet. I know it isn't an aniversary or any special event, I just think we should do this. After this i'll outdo myself once again, and keep on doing it until we draw last breaths. We can leave the rest of our weeks to worry about getting late to work or missing classes, I don't want you to worry tonight.

If you are to decline, then i'll have no choice but to still take you regardless. You could argue that I am yet to grow up, and I may decline and say I am yet to lose my sense of humanity. And that could get you angry, but I win you over easily. I could tell you the real reason why i'm doing this, but that would make you sad. And tonight, I don't want that. Ask me tomorrow, i'll tell you tomorrow. But not tonight, please.

ICS Situation Summary

Lunar lights linger lifting slowly standard weights.
Curtains call mavericks moving more than the theoretical speed suggested.
Strange stations staging counters against agile airplanes in the sky.
Is it all coincidence? Or is there more to this chaos sorrounded setting i've been placed in? Could I be the only once who sees things this way, or are there more? Do I have company or are the sounds I hear at night only creatures of my imagination and past who constantly torture me and call me out to play one-player bohemian games?

Lazy lads lay by blue stained skies overly oblivious to the tremors trembling throughout town.
Black silver slaying soft skin, innocents initiating in intrusion, death devouring.
Addicted adolescents adoring all the truths tedeously told to them.
Why can't anyone hear? I bang and scream against the glass and they don't even glance, or at least think about turning their heads to the side, maybe if they did that they would avoid what is about to hit them. Am I naturally destined to an eternity of loneliness and desperation such as this? If so I should have just considered ending my life before this mission began, when I was still lost and not so caught up in strange responsibilities given to me.

Bland bellies being meticulously pressured, pursuit of pleasure.
Legs lifted slowly spitting screams being blared by blunt forces freeing fruits.
Laughs lighting cigarettes caressing craniums, sore skins soften slaughter.
To have loved her was to have felt pain like no other, the very reason for my absence.
The very reason for my want to leave the land in the first place, had my heart never felt pain of the sort the dancing demons in my soul would have never taken advantage of my weakness to douse my arteries in gasoline and strike a match, they would have never had the pleasure of vandalizing my core had I never met such a brute force that would leave me weaker than I have ever been in my life. Pain would have just been a word and life would have gone on instead of standing still, in limbo as it now is. The hurt is unberable to no end.

Waves wander whistling by being: careful, correct, contradicting.
Suspicious sounds settle.
Intelligent inland island system set.
No longer will I connect with the outside world, no longer will I be bothered by needless sounds and settings and feelings. If my very reason to live here is dead, then I have no reason to stay around hoping that will be reversed. I will go to space, transmit signals in the hopes that maybe someone such as myself will find them, and send me back a hello, or a simple smile. I transmit signals to study the love in the modern age, in hopes that someone out there still believes in the old one. For in the land I left, love is lifeless.


Transmission Over.

-Cosmonaut 7072-23

Introduction to the Interplanetary Communication System

Uma tosse leve, mais um gole da garrafa de água que carrego comigo nessa jornada estranha, minha única fonte de alegria. Eu não aguento mais errar, não aguento mais ser burro de carga, útil somente pras criaturas mais inúteis e despresaveis dessa terra aonde nasci. Com uma certa frequencia eles me levam ao mar razo e tiram um sarrinho, chutam minhas pernas me deixando encalhado na areia, em panico fico me debatendo. Já é muito tarde pra fazer qualquer movimento, me pegam pelas orelhas e me afundam na água salgada, afolgando grito e grito mas ninguém me escuta. Ou pelo menos aqueles que escutavam e me ajudavam não estão na praia hoje.

Quando tenho o prazer de ficar só por pelo menos algumas horas, posso me distanciar do mundo um tanto. Odeio quando a vida vem bater na minha porta, fico com a obrigação de dar um entretenimento pra ela, e eu não consigo mais fazer isso.

Tornado Warnings

Queria escrever algo legal até, só que eu não estou com saco.
Então criançada, fique assim mesmo até a próxima.
Que vem logo, já que tenho algo escrito (é que esqueci de pegar no trabalho).

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

O que era inevitavel, talvez já chegou e já passou, já disse oi e já se retirou da sala.
Vai embora tristeza, vai pra casa que eu tenho mais o que fazer.
Não tem direito na vida de quem quebrou o contrato social, pare com essa de nos deixar com o sentimento que o que nos resta é você e só você.

E agora, que o amor se foi o que resta pra mim é apenas um gole na garrafa e uma esperança (que de uma forma ridicula sobrevive) que esse túnel vai ter um fim.

Good Night Sweets.

Deary, i'll tuck you in and sing you some lullaby, you'll fall asleep real quick.

Today was fun, i've never had such happiness strike me right in the heart. Your smiles and laughter, you soft hands and your pretty ideas to change the world. I fell in love with every word. Lying in the grass, staring into your pretty green eyes and wondering what goes on in that pretty little head. A good life, you'll give me one.

Don't worry, We'll recharge our batteries tonight and play more tomorrow. Our Sunday mornings are immortal, a love that will last forever. You'll sit on the couch and curl up knitting scarves and hats for our winter days, and i'll sit by the fire reading the book I just bought hearing the tv over the pages. You've never looked so cute in your little dress pretending you aren't shivering in the cold, and i'll sit by you.

Don't worry doll we're almost done. Tomorrow we can go to the beach and you can carve drawings with sticks in the sand, and I can admire all that you do without noticing. I won't complain about all the mascara you use, in fact I think it makes you even prettier but honestly regardless of what you do you'll maintain your impressisionistic beauty. It doesn't matter, you'll take off my hard armour, tell me everythings alright and it's safe to go outside and play.

And then you'll just give me the simplest kiss, and i'll be off.

Ghosts of Denmark: Ismaels Helsinki part 1

Mais um dia, mais um homem ao mar. 100 anos neste barco nós, marinheiros, bohemios, amantes do inexistente existimos. Pelo chão de madeira velha e barulhenta andamos. Vendo tudo que é azul e lindo se tornar fatal com a morte do sol, nossa maior paixão se torna perigosa: A noite. Ela sendo a nossa única companheira nos lembra de amores antigos, amigas, namoradas, filhas, mulheres. Com isso em mente a nostalgia se torna insuportável.

Vou te contar a história de um velho companheiro, que se jogou ao mar anos atrás. Ismael, 26 anos com uma barba grande como sua apetite pela vida antes de se tornar mais uma alma neste barco sem rumo. Conheci ele quando tinhamos ambos 22 anos, um bar confiscado pelos pensamentos depravados da juventude dinamarquesa. Ele entrou como se tivesse me procurando, sempre fui alguém feito pra escutar as histórias humanas. Comprei uma cerveja pra ele e Ismael contou:

Quando era jovem, 17 anos. Conheci uma garota linda de Helsinki, com um cabelo semelhante as profundesas do nosso próprio mar frio. O nome dela era Helenna, e ela me trouxe a maior felicidade que já conheci nessa vida, talvez a última. No começo eramos apenas amigos, uma conversa qualquer na porta da casa dos pais toda vez que ia entregar as contas deles, todas escritas à mão pelo meu pai (ele tinha muito orgulho de sua forma bela de escrever). Infelizmente somos só humanos, e a amizade se tornou mais do que só isso. Por chance encontrei ela no parque (sempre ia lá todos os domigos pra apreciar a natureza do nosso querido país), ela me contou sobre coisas que eu não me lembro muito bem pois não prestava atenção com tanto nervosismo na minha cabeça e acabei por matando a literatura que era a voz dela com "Que tempo ruim que anda tendo esses dias, não?".
Não foi a melhor escolha de palavras pois ela me pareceu um tanto irritada com isso, e ficou calada. Uns 5 minutos se passaram com um silencio costrangedor até ela me dizer "está frio, vou embora". E assim foi como começou tudo:

"Lhe dou meu casaco, não vá tão cedo."
"Não precisa, vai ficar com frio e ficarei com calor, me parece injusto."
"Então eu tiro meu casaco, podemos ficar com frio juntos."
"Não seja tolo isso não faz o menor sentido, devo ir."
"Fique por favor."
"Por que toda essa insistencia em minha presença?"
"Sou direto, sempre fui e vou ser agora: Por que te amo."

Demorou pra notar o que tinha dito, apesar que nessa hora já era muito tarde. Ela ficou vermelha com o que me parecia vergonha, e eu também. Ela se sentou, e ficou olhando pro chão. Já eu fiquei olhando pro lado brincando com meu anél entre os dedos de tanto nervosismo continuo. Passaram se 30 minutos, ninguém falou nada. Ela se levantou e começou uma caminhada lenta pra casa, enquanto eu fiquei. Um homem perguntou a hora, e depois de um tempo um cachorro sem dono se sentou ao meu lado. Tinhamos o mesmo sentimento naquela hora, mal eu sabia que com o passar do tempo melhor seria ter trocado almas com o canino.. E fui pra casa quando o sol já estava quase morto.

Heavy Breathing Fragments

Tem alguém ai? Do outro lado do espelho? Da parede? Do meu mundo?

Será que é algum morto de fome? A garota da banda? Uma pessoa que já passou pelo mesmo caminho que eu, deixa pista de que a rota não é fácil e nunca foi. Um rabisco na parede, eu deixo coisas minhas também pros próximos. Já vi alguns que acabaram antes de mim, um sinal que eu consigo achar fé depois de tudo isso. Deles só se vê um rabisco de perdão.

Eu sei que vou acabar com o mesmo fim que eles, é só questão de tempo. Em todo caso continuo curioso pra ver o que a vida pode nos dar depois de tudo isso. Talvez seja um vicio natural da nossa parte, querer sofrer e sofrer mais tentando descrever o sofrimento que nos dá: O amor, a paixão, os sentimentos, e a vida. Eu já sou uma versão aperfeiçoada, completa da nossa forma. Não me enganam, não me usam. Eu os deixo, isso sim.

Por toda nossa curiosidade, continuamos sofrendo. Somos o gato que brinca com a curiosidade, é só uma questão de tempo até ela entrar na brincadeira também. E eu sento, cansado de ter o resumo da minha semana em mãos. Querendo saber o que me faz continuar com os pés e alma nessa terra vermelha que eu chamo de lar doce lar. Uma triste eternidade contendo rios de lagrimas que secaram sem poder fluir anos atrás.

Tudo anda mais rapido nessa estrada, passei por um jardim ou dois vários anos atrás sem notar. Alguém me deu um oi, outros me deram àdeus. Ignorei todas as pessoas e coisas que me passaram, e junto com eles todos os limites de velocidade que me tentaram fazer respeitar. A agora essa, outra etapa da vida em que não consigo prestar nenhuma atenção ou levar qualquer coisa disso a qualquer nível de sériedade. Foda-se.

Ill Musician.

I'm sorry hun, I just haven't been feeling myself lately.

I have thoughts, that run through my brain as if they were readying themselves for a marathon. But know they will win no trophy. They are strong, heavy, and persistant. They make me miss you, and they make me miss me. Yeah this rides been fun, but i'm getting a little queasy. And I still remember our July afternoons, Long Island was a blast with your face stamped on it.

I can't help this shaking, cigarettes in the morning despite them making me hungrier and it causes me alot of pain. But lately I just haven't cared. And God dear, i'm so tired of stepping outside. My bones hurt so much from walking and walking, it's so needless when you aren't around. I leave the house on rainy days, the air is heavy on my cloudy lungs but the sun will hurt my sleepless eyes. And despite them being this way, i've slept so much my back hurts.

I've no goals anymore without you by my side, i'm sorry i've become this. I think you'll be happy to hear that despite the pain in my fingers i've managed to play some guitar, but there is no more audience, just a cat outside my window and a picture of a man on life support on the back of my cigarettes whom I can relate to. It appears the big city is way more lonely than i initialy thought. So far my conclusion dear is that: Love is in the air but my nose is stuffed.

Allston, Where are you?

Allston, aonde está você? Sinto tanto sua falta, suas luzes no inverno me esquentavam.
Sua vida, as bohemias lindas que passeavam pelas suas ruas, sinto tanta falta delas, poesias ambulantes (cada palavra saia pelo clak-clak dos saltos, zippers de jaquetas, couro italiano).
As janelas de todos os carros que me levaram pelas suas avenidas pequenas, cada pingo de chuva que corria até a minha visão me falhar e eu dormir na paz que você trazia, sinto tanta falta de tudo isso.

Agora estou perdido. Por que se esconde a magia? Por que eu não posso mais sentar na frente do trêm que passava pela sua estação, o metrô a cada 5 minutos? Antes eu sentia pena dos coitados que tinham que dar àdeus à você.. Agora sou um deles. Agradeço as tentativas quase estrangeiras do meu próprio povo, infelizmente nem sequer me fazem parar de pensar em você. Nada se compara, nada chega perto. Eles não tem idéia.

Ultima vez que te vi você parecia tão quieta, talvez sabia que seria a ultima. Aquele cara estranho que cresceu com você, que associava todas as musicas no iPod com você, nunca mais ia te ver. Até com gripe não ficava em casa, precisava te ver. O amor que você me deu, sinto tanta falta dele. Eu com meu iPod no metrô, indo pra te ver e pra ver as pessoas que sempre tinham um sorriso bêbado na cara e sabedoria na cabeça.. Se eu soubesse dos planos que eles tinham pra mim.

Agora estou realmente perdido.

Inverno na Cidade

Vagando pelas ruas frias com minha trajetória indefinida sinto seus olhos castanhos do alto do morro me vigiando. Eu ainda não te encontrei, você parece ter me encontrado faz muito muito tempo. Compactado eu sinto a chuva batendo no meu casaco, hoje vou me molhar até a alma pra ver se acorda a criança dentro de mim, não quero mais ser gente grande. Você pelo jeito não se importa com quem eu sou, as coisas que eu faço, a vida que levo..

Me deito sob a sombra dos edificios, me falta visão suficiente pra ver a beleza neles hoje em dia. Algo que em você existe em abundancia, por isso preciso encontrar você logo pois talvez não sobrevivo sem você. Deito minha cabeça coberta por um boné na parede de concreto e volto meu olhar das moças lindas na rua pros céus, nenhuma núvem neles.. a chuva parou e eu ainda não me encontrei. Talvez espero por mais um dia em que posso me tornar uma pessoa melhor.

O vento frio voltou, bate e parece me acordar um pouco. Me levanto e vejo aonde estou, pra ter certeza que não tive a sorte de acordar em algum lugar mais comfortável. Já me parece hora de ir pra casa, não sei se aguento mais esse tempo longe de você, me deixa triste saber que vou acordar amanhã abraçando o vão na minha cama, acordando de mais um sonho com você. Sonha do mesmo jeito? Sem teu amor o inverno é mais longo, mais triste, mais frio.

Me deito e penso em absolutamente nada, mais uma noite sem você talvez vire pouca coisa quando penso que passei todo esse tempo sem notar que existia tal possibilidade de um dia encontrar a felicidade. Só que ainda fico sentido quando penso que você sabe aonde estou e nunca me procura, por que faz isso comigo? Venha à noite, por favor. Eu deixo a porta da frente aberta pra você, não me deixe nesse sofrimento. Vem e me prometa que vou acordar todos os dias a partir desse ao seu lado, na sua compania, com todo seu amor.

Tear Ducts

You blew away the pollen with your allergic sneezing. Your glasses nearly fell off from all the trouble. Your sister let you borrow her car, after a long drive to the beach we had a couple of cigarettes and pulled up the covers because it was quite cold even with the car heater on.
At times we fight because of your drinking but I could never let you find out I actually don't mind dear.

I still remember last year when I got sick and you took care of me, even skipped work to do it. I told you I felt horrible that you had to go through all the trouble just to take care of me and you leaned over with a cup of soup, a malicious smile and said "It just isn't winter without a cold, love."

I love you so much I don't think you understand. From the way the autumn winds make your dress dance to the various things and sacrifices we've agreed to make for eachother. I love you trully. And you wont take this seriously, you'll say i'm being silly and odd. But it's the truth. I am here for you always, dear.

Carente

Bom dia querida.
Não tive a oportunidade de dormir ao seu lado essa noite, desculpa.
Passei a noite sentado no banco lá fora, esqueço dos perigos nesse país eu sei.
Gentileza sua fazer o café, talvez pego depois quando o tempo me dar um descanso.
Fica nervosa com esse hábito feio meu, eu sei. Sei o quanto você quer me ver trabalhando, trazendo dinheiro pra pagar certas contas. É que meus sonhos são lindos quando estou acordado, às vezes fica dificil dormir nessa situação. Dessa vez estava com você no parque, fogos no céu dando um pouco de cor à noite. O gramado era tão escuro quanto a água, seria um perigo sair do lugar pois poderia cair no mar. Era verão e todas as cores davam ainda mais vida ao seu lindo rosto.
Sei, não esta em animo pra escutar elogios pois nossa situação é real. É que eu sinto saudades de quando tudo era novo.
Lembro de quando conheci você, uma longa viagem ao mundo desconhecido.. Nada que eu não estou acostumado.
Aceito chá hoje querida, prefiro chá.
Enfim, você era mais velha por um ano. Isso me deixava tranquilho, pois sabia que não ia deixar meu coração (que no tempo era ainda fraco) na mão de uma qualquer.
E você o abraçou, tranquilizou, convenceu de que tudo era tão lindo de novo.
Nosso primeiro ano se resumiu em longas caminhadas, noites assistindo desenhos velhos, e toneladas de cigarros baratos ao lado da televisão passando filmes dos anos 50.
Querida Deus sabe que eu te amo, não quero errar com você.
Não sei mais o que te dizer, você escutou tudo isso tantas vezes que cansa. Eu cansaria.
Não ligue para sua mãe, sei o quanto ela sempre te disse que casar com pintor era furada na certa.
Eu quero é um abraço, um tiro sentimental na escuridão solitária.

Rude, Rude, Rude.

That's so very english!


Oi querida, me desculpe por não ir no jantar ontem.
Vou ser verdadeiro, já que você curte esse tipo de coisa.
Eu não quero saber de jantar, um beijo e convite pra entrar na sua casa, e depois você.
Talvez seja fácil entender que eu só quero meu maço de cigarros do lado da minha cerveja, assistindo um jogo do Santos.
Não me chame de machista, eu não vejo nada de machista nisso.
Tenho minhas vontades pela arte, e uma tal sabedoria ou entendemento das coisas.
Convenhamos, eu não sou tão perfeito assim.. Talvez por que eu não ligo pra muita coisa.
Os fatos são: Eu não te amo, odeio sua mãe, sua irmã não devia dar em cima de mim, e eu odeio seus amigos chatos arrogantes.
Por que você insiste?

Seu escritorio me irrita, e não quero saber de uma vida normal.
Não eu não ando fazendo drogas, sou mais eu.
Você não entende que não podemos terminar, pois nunca começamos.
Pra falar a verdade estou com uma puta vontade de comer um churrasco.
Mais alguma coisa? Sim, quando vou ao banheiro bater uma não penso em você.
Disse que não curto loiras, aprendi que é mentira vai entender né.
Os fatos continuam: Não quero casar com você, não quero ir pra porra da França eu odeio aquele país, você é a pessoa mais chata pra levar num bar pra assistir futebol, suas musicas me irritam.

Hello Again

Bright Tennessee girl pregnant at 19, got a wedding ring as red as the Marbs she smokes.
Eye beaten black, arms more bruised than a boxer Goddamn! You got the wrong end of the deal!
The eery feeling you are getting in your bones is provided by your discovery that even the devil watches television, pays bills, eats pills, and plays with sex toys. Can love save you from this situation little one?
It doesn't particularly bother me in any way that you have your knot tied with the devil, makes it easier for me to sell my soul on one or two reasonable occasions.
Just a little hard to talk to him when he's chugging on whisky and pumping cocaine through his nose.
I walk along the same road, would end up meeting him someday. See myself in a beaten black jacket chugging a bottle of tequila all my way down to hell.

Daydream #1: Mermaids.

I slipped quietly into the Black Sea, where I drowned for hours and hours.
I awoke in a daze, at the bottom. My eyes as fragile as they may be what with being made for a human being could make out the figure of a woman tending to my insanity spells.
She leaned over and I could feel her fingers, soft as snow. They were followed by a voice most would saw was as sweet as the sea we were both in, but I found such comfort in them. She asked me: "What has life done to a boy as pretty as you?". I answered with a voice unusually calm for such a situation "Well miss, I was born with a heart strong as steel.. Unfortunately made weak by my experiences roaming the ground, so I decided I should try my luck down here in the sea."

She was beautiful, admired the sincerity in my words and had no problem in pointing out my qualities. It was nice having someone like that around. Someone who didn't find it strange that I wanted to be held at the bottom of the sea, someone who wouldn't mind my words, who wouldn't let me stray off with my nomadic ways, and would just follow my flow. We visited the warrior graveyards, where brave Nords fell to the depths and never saw their land again. They would tell me their stories, and most would point out how they missed being able to see the sun again. I was surprised at how poetic those men can be. But I suppose in this setting it'll turn anyones words into magic.

By this time, my eyes had already adapted to the sea and I had seen her for the first time correctly. She had yellow hair, which I found strange considering she didn't seem to ever leave the ocean. Once I asked, she explained that it was because before she was born her parents were drowned and fell to the bottom, upon seeing her the old god Poseidons daughters found her and refused to let her die. Since then she has been living in this area, never having left the sea.

All of this would have been beautiful, but I found myself waking up.

Cold Cold Cold.

A stranger in the horizon. Concrete jungles bare no smiles, often kids with serious faces. Outside is harsh, frozen winds playing butcher with my face. So many beautiful women in this town, none with a happy face. Determined to go somewhere, determined to meet someone or get some mission accomplished. I have no place in particular that I must bravely march onto, just a hillside beyond this frozen wasteland. The weather in this place I call home paralyzed all that is my heart. It's stuck in time, still dancing with the temptress who stole it. But even Odysseus spent a few years under the rule of a deceiving beauty, it's fair.
I assume it is hard for us to cross this sea of lovers alone.

Darling you fill my heart with gunpowder and throw your matches at it. Another afternoon wasted in daydreams. The cold is like cocaine, it lights you up. Sit by the fire and sleep, or spend another night in the cold with the cigarrette ember guiding your way home. My fingertips feel some nervous warmth everytime an ideal girl passes by, but life doesn't work that way.
Assuming all actions have a consequence I would have had a chance to meet this girl had I not taken away 2 minutes from my journey to grab a cup of coffee, but even so I am far too timid.
Your face looks best in the afternoon, you make me so happy and you don't even know it.
There is beauty in loneliness, unfortunately I can't see it.

I want to fall in love, I do. But it's such a hard task. In the city love is a very difficult and beaurocratic process that takes attempt after attempt and legions of brave words corageous enough to understand they might not make it back home. It's because of the weather, I have a feeling.

Anonymous Death Report

Grace was a girl I met in high school.
Long blonde hair and beady green eyes.
A somewhat enviable chest, if I were a girl i'd probably go about pointing that out.
Very correct, thats how I would describe her.
We maintained our friendship right up until this moment, I don't consider friendships with the dead. Nothing against them I just don't want them around me, might make life more uncomfortable than it already is that way.
Grace died of a cocaine overdose, the ambulance driver (his name was Adam in case you might be wondering) found her on a pile of empty beer and whisky bottles bleeding out the nose, by then Grace was bloating. Adam said the stench was so foul that he began to vomit, without realizing it he vomited on graces chest, it's quite rude I assume but considering i'm not Grace I can't answer for her now can I?
Upon autopsy (most annoying moment considering her mom kept crying through the whole damn thing) they found that due to her being shoeless during the time of death some rats managed to fancy her toes, which could be considered disgusting but that sounds like paradise if comparing to when they told us that due to the fact that she had no underwear some fruit flies decided to make a nest by her genitals (which by then were foul considering she had been left in this basement for over a week).
Pardon my giving details but I am a very detailed person when it comes to death, personally I care so little for the process that it's like explaining the weather really. You see, Grace wasn't always into parties and drugs. When I met her she was rather shy actually, didn't talk to many people. Her story is rather cliché, i'd rather not bore you with the details. If you want to know her life watch some typical Hollywood High School teen flick from the 90s.

Dead Next Door

I smell gunpowder and cocaine honey
That last one is yours to deal with.
Your insanity inspires me,
And I don't think I need to explain how much it makes me want to sleep with you.
But that is my problem to deal with tonight in the privacy of my bathroom.
Then maybe i'll douse myself in cheap alcohol and reminisce about teenage.
Apparently it's my duty as a guy to only want to fuck you. And fuck you hard.
But I don't feel like it right now, not this moment.
I still manage to get my moral code where it needs to be.
But the fantasies, Oh the fantasies.
My subconscious, it just doesn't give a fuck. By it's rule i'd be doing all the LSD on earth, and maybe.. who knows? Taking panties off with my teeth listening to Frank Zappa and Raul Seixas.
But all i've done today is watch your pretty eyes, cocaine eyes.

Incidents

"So.." said the girl next to me at the bus stop quite confused as to why I had frozen still for such a long time after she asked me "Will you be mine?". "So will you? I know i'm not alot, but I know you'll be made happy with me by your side!" she says it like it were the simplest thing in the world, really. But the problem was, she didn't fit my style. I wanted someone as strange as I, not the perfect mother to my children.

And so, with much simplicity in my eyes and a quiet flame of sympathy burning in my heart I said "No, I'm sorry darlin' but this just won't do. You see the problem is that you just aren't insane enough, you haven't seen the world with eyes like mine. In the start we'll be happy, but I have far too many problems, i'll come home late and smelling like alcohol, i'll spend far too much money in cigarettes and useless trinkets, etc. You should find yourself a nice boy though, one who treats you real fancy."

Needless to say that girl looked at me with a very pure hatred, and threw a hot cup of coffee at my genitals. And that's why i'm here explaining this to you right now Dr!

Hard Case Kid

Fui pro paraiso e voltei cambaleando bebado de whisky barato, tomando uma garrafa de Biotonico gole em gole fumando um maço por hora. "Trash é tão sexy, é tão proibido!" diziam as meninas nas portas dos shoppings, vestidas em preto e all star. Pois eu viro com a fumaça ainda saindo da boca para responder apenas com um "Lindo não é? Um homem que não devia ter sido, foi condenado sem chances de justificar na corte dos deuses do paraiso e foi imediatamente chutado pelas portas para cair aqui, aonde ele passará o resto dos seus dias jovems bebendo e fumando. Jogando fora uma vida jovem que antes era tão alegre, que hoje se resume no medo de cair no sono, pois nos sonhos vêm o paraiso e com o paraiso vêm a dura realidade de ter que acordar para ver que este inferno é a pior realidade que um sonhador pode ter."Rindo um pouco, volto minha cabeça para direção que meu corpo está indo e por falta de lagrimas apenas continuo cambaleando pelas ruas brasileiras.

I Like The Color Pink

But i'm not gay.
How does that work?

KindNappers #2

Dear Bruno,

My husband died one year ago of AIDS, he got it from having sex behind my back with hookers.


Joana.

KindNappers #1

Darling Joana,
I believe you remember me, but I am not all too sure.We had class together in 3rd grade, I was the boy who smelled funny (you know, the one you always made fun of).
I think you'll be glad in hearing I do not smell anymore. After several years, and showers. I have begun to smell like a new man. I remember you would get all the kids together to pick on me, and hit me some times. It was all good innocent fun.
Well I suppose I should give the motive for this letter, and stop being so nostalgic!Joana, I have your husband in the back of my van. He is fine, in case you were wondering. Although the ropes make him a tad uncomfortable from what I see. I wouldn't mind releasing his hands and feet if only he kept still and didn't try to run away while i write you this.
I do hope you don't mind coming out tonight to the park say around, midnight? And if you could be so kind as to please bring £15,000 with you that would be Fantastic. Well I will finish here because me and, Fred is his name? Yes, Fred. We are going on a little ride around town, I have fantastic places for him to visit. Unfortunately if you do not show up I must give him a closer view of the bridge outside town.



Hope you are well, Bruno.