sexta-feira, 15 de julho de 2016


                It's Sunday, 4:55am. No one is awake. She decides to take a walk till the nearest open shop to buy some cigarettes and watch the sun rising in the sky,  painting it with pink clouds and reddish yellow tones, exposing her thoughts in a way she thought it was not possible anymore. I'm alive, ain't I? Unfortunately, she thinks. Yet, I'm still here, and what do we do when all we've got is a pack of cigarettes and no hope left? She walked into the woods and picked the most dead-like tree she could find. We're alike, don't you think? Sometimes I wonder why I wasn't born as a tree; so subtle, so far away from people, so non human. Humans are too much troubled, while as a tree my only concern would be to grow old and get used to the seasons stealing my leaves & breath away. I could be useful, like a house for some birds, or tiny animals. I would be able to breathe in the fresh air and exhale freedom for those who find shelter under my branches. I would communicate with nature around me and find an answer everywhere I'd lay my eyes on. Instead, I'm here, contaminating the air and my lungs with these cigarettes that once provided some false quietness inside me, but I don't even taste it anymore. The clouds have wiped the colors away from the sky since I can remember - all I see is a huge bell jar where I'm trapped within with no will to move on. Where do we go from here? There's no escape anymore - there never was. What do we do now, Jack? She named the dead-like tree as Jack. She liked names with J. Jack didn't answer. Neither did she. Goodbye, Jack. And then she got up on her feet and started walking back home. It was 7:17am when she got home. She went upstairs, took off her blue sneakers and threw them somewhere across the room. It was dark, yet a few lines of sun dared to invade the room through the window, revealing the dust in the air while she laid in bed. Her head was spinning, the thoughts were racing. Why, Jack? Jack didn't answer. Neither did she. She took the pill bottle and started putting the pills in line, smiling at every single one of them, like they were children going out in a sunny day.  Is it enough, Jack? Jack didn't answer. Neither did she. She took the fourth cigarette out of the pack and started chain smoking like there was no tomorrow.
                There wasn't.

quarta-feira, 26 de agosto de 2015

When goobyes stab you in the back

The fire spreads while you touch me
I know your lies, and i've known
all of them
for years
six years or so
i can see your odd blinking &
i can hear your trembling voice
when you say
you have to go back home
or to go back to your
with has nothing to do with me
and it's okay to try to protect
someone who's been hurting for
more than two decades
but it's not fair
to treat this person
as someone who's as weak & innocent
as a kid
that wouldn't know how to handle
the truth
i can be hurt & i know how to hurt people
and it can be dangerous
because i know where to put the
sharp words & leave no traces behind
but you're not me
and your lies have been as sharp
as my own words when used as a weapon
but i don't know if these
wounds will heal anytime soon
unlike when i am the one
who inflicts them myself
because i don't care if they will heal
because i wanted the pain
because i longed for the wound
to be open & reopened
as time passed by
but your lies are like a razorblade
slipping back & forth
through the same wound
you've inflicted on me
many years ago.

domingo, 2 de agosto de 2015

Dead pearls

How to fix
a damaged soul
when its shell
has no longer
a will
to live?

Six word story #38

        Her corpse, his heart;
        forever united.

Six word story #37

        Her abyss swallowed him whole,

Six word story #36

        He grabbed her cold hands; gone.

quinta-feira, 30 de julho de 2015

Maybe she won't make it home tonight

Once i had a heart and
i played with it and
i molded it
into something that
just put in their
to lock 'em away
cold as ice
but how can
a heart
ever be useful again
if its insides
are frozen?

(i'm sorry for that,
sometimes i even do it myself
right before someone could do it
so i won't feel bad
for their decisions
so i won't be able to right
my wrongs
when i'm as shallow
as a your glass of wine
standing still on
my table
staining my woods
and my insides,
i'm sorry) 

© 2009Dead Souls | by TNB