terça-feira, 25 de junho de 2013

6-word letter #35

                  From inside out,
                  she withered away.

On my own

                  I need a time to be alone, but I don't want to be with myself. It's more hurtful than stabbing myself with words when I'm on my own.

sábado, 22 de junho de 2013

Remember not to care

                  "Remember not to care", she said.
                  "Remember not to care".
                  "Remember not to care".
                  "Remember not to care".
                  And she broke up her own promises when she stared at his bare bones beside her bed.
                  "Remember not to care".
                  "Remember: with yourself, don't be so unfair".
                  She kept staring.
                  "Remember: you'll always asky yourself if you did go wrong, and where".
                  "Remember : his bones will remind you when you stare".
                  "Remember not to care".
                  "Remember not to care".
                  "Remember: you murdered him as you'd murder yourself in despair".
                  "Remember not to care".

Sozinho

                  Tão só a caminho de mim mesmo, entrei na rua errada e me perdi na escuridão de meu ser.

Complexos

                  O que é você senão uma vírgula do próprio poema? O que te faz feliz senão uma pequena batalha entre dois mundos paralelos? Nada mais é como antes, diriam. Nada nunca foi e nunca será, você diz. Mas o que foi será um dia o que nos resta? Ou o que nos resta será um passado que não aconteceu? Serão minhas palavras tão encharcadas de melancolia lidas em uma via expressa, em alto e bom som, como uma manifestação sem movimentos, ou uma canção de ninar? Cala-me, pois tu és o meu alvo de inspiração. O que seria de mim sem você? O que seria de você sem falar de mim? Somos um. Somos o todo. Somos ninguém - o ninguém mais inabalável de todos. Deixa-te ouvir-me - escuta e compreenda: nada mais é senão um fim. Fim de nós. Fim de um todo. Fim de um nada. O que é você senão um ponto final de uma frase alheia? Não existe poemas, não se curve por tão pouco. É isso o que você diz, afinal, o semblante de quem você finge ser? Cala-te, pois tu és o meu poço de podridão. Escória do mundo. Diga-me então por qual bueiro escapar dessa vida. Siga em frente, e vire à esquerda, rua do Coração. Atravesse a veia do meu ser e deixa-te escorrer por entre as margens do que sou. Vejo você na saída.

domingo, 16 de junho de 2013

Despedida num domingo de sol

                 Andei por dias à espera de te ver novamente. Te sentir, te acariciar, de me ver nos olhos teus numa noite de sábado depois de um confronto corporal. De ouvir um "eu te amo" e escutar as próprias palavras ecoando por dentro. De sentir teus lábios nos meus e entender a tua língua, sem censurar o teu toque, o teu jeito, o teu amor. O nosso amor. Ele é inexplicável. E o "eu te amo" ainda ecoa em minhas palavras de esperança de te rever na próxima semana, e começar outro capítulo do livro da nossa vida juntos.

domingo, 9 de junho de 2013

Diálogo

                  "Vida medíocre.
                  Média, mediana, razoável.
                  Não sei fingir ser feliz.
                  Não quero.
                  Não vou."

sábado, 8 de junho de 2013

Ways to come back home

                  In your life I said I would go back
                  Also "This way I'm gonna lose my track!"
                  "You will go on better off this way!"
                  And then you threw me away

                  You heart, shall I be back to attack
                  "I would never leave you
                  The way you kicked my back"
                  But don't worry, things will be fine
                  And when I have your head in my bare hands
                  This house, I shall be taking as mine
                  For me to prove one of my finest stored wines

                  You'll be staring at me
                  With these eyes wide open
                  But I must not pity on you
                  Remember, you was the first to kill me
                  But now, I have killed you.

Ways to kill a life

                  I said I wouldn't get up anymore
                  But this sadness keeps beating me up to the shore
                  Of my own life

                  I said I would burn myself alive
                  But my heart keeps telling me
                  That life is already a burnt hell
                  And I would just feed it up as well

                  I said I would cut this life off of me
                  But listen, how many sharp blades
                  Is needed to do so, you see?

                  I said I needed just one
                  But life threw me away of my blades
                  Though I had a blade-shaped heart
                  And used it to end up these gloomy feelings of mine.

sexta-feira, 7 de junho de 2013

6-word letter #34

                  Writers feel mostly lonely at midnight.

quarta-feira, 5 de junho de 2013

Desastre

                   Não tem café quente, mas tem papel e tinta.
                   E me aconteceu de te escrever, descrever, ir te ver.
                   Mas esquentei o café
                   e não fui.

Horror (scream with me like a black metal song)

                  Think, think, think
                  About that last horror movie
                  That brought you chills to the bones!

                  Sink, sink, sink
                  Like me in all these bloody thoughts
                  And reach up this castle that life
                  Build up for me by throwing me stones!

                  (Do you feel that, can you feel that?
                  Can you feel that like me?)

                  (Do you feel that, you wanna feel that?
                  Stop wishing it!)

                  Don't you ever
                  blink, blink, blink
                  Or you might miss the show

                  But if you've already seen it
                  Let it go!

                  Sin, sin, sin
                  And feel free to overflow,
                  But since you've never felt the end coming
                  You should have thought about hesitating a long time ago!

Succumbing

                   I want to burn myself alive. I want to wait for the healing but I just can't keep myself away and done with the deep bleeding wounds. Today I saw a girl so miserable and pathetic that when she looked back at me in the mirror, I just couldn't keep on looking at her. She felt so sad and so full of masks at the very first glance, so deep than all that gloom hovering around her. I could see that black wave in the mirror. I could feel it, as the girl was disappearing just like me. The voices inside screamed for her to come back, but she wouldn't, not so fast.
                  And far that moment, all I could see was blood. She wasn't in the mirror anymore, she wouldn't be back so quickly - and unlike the voices, I knew why. Because she would surrender and open herself alive to feel free of all the misery - do you understand? Scream and yell at me, I won't care - I just want to set me free of all these thoughts and feelings that should never be felt by someone. Thoughts that should never resides inside any mind - not yours, or mine.
                  I don't want to burn myself alive anymore. I want to be able to look at how I grew up so lost and miserable that I came up like this in the wrong time, wrong year, wrong person. I just wish I could still be with my eyes wide open, but endorphins are shutting them so slowly that it feels so out of my reach to be able to open them up again.
                  I don't want to open them up anymore.
                  Nevermore.

6-word letter #33

                  Won't stop the voices, they say.

6-word letter #32

                  Her death's awful; more than life.
 

© 2009Dead Souls | by TNB