sábado, 27 de junho de 2015

About those times when i'm nothing but a shadow in the mirror

It's hard to see
through bloodstained glasses
but when your mind
acts like one
you just can't get away
with being dirty
with your own blood
but then comes a time when
what happens
is exactly what you once
tried to escape from
your hands get dirty
and your bedsheets become
bloodstained
as much as your mind
but you can't help it
because while you're
purging away all these
dirty thoughts
in a toilet,
flushing them away like they
were just an amount
of nothing inside of your body,
the blood keeps on
dripping off your limbs
staining the once
bright white
ceramic
that now is no longer
so beautiful
because it weighs
so much more
than anything else
in the world
and it's even more disgusting
when you think
that this only happened
because of you
with your help
with all those sneaky midnight walks
to the bathroom floor
to stain that room
with no mercy
to stain your body
with no mercy
in order to become something
greater
that only exists inside
your mind & inside that mirror
which insists in showing you
a dirty & blurry truth
that holds a grip inside you
and leads you to a cave
you dig on your own.

quinta-feira, 25 de junho de 2015

Inbetweens

        Frequently I find myself looking at nowhere, feeling like i was drifting away from my body & going somewhere far from the real world. I wouldn't say it's like I was trying to escape from some situations in my life because I don't do it on purpose, it just happens so subtly like a glance out of the window, and what I see out there is my way to go, while my body is still stuck in the previous place. Sometimes I can even picture myself somewhere different when I enter in this state of mind, and it's not always beautiful or mystical. Sometimes it's like I'm in the woods, or a locked white room which makes me shiver out of anxiety & fear from thinking that maybe I won't be able to leave there anytime soon. Sometimes it's my own place, where I can lay in my bed and forget time & everything else. I can't say I'd prefer being in those places than reality because not all of them are good, tho none of them is anywhere near from being so unbearable as my mind is. But I don't know whether I like being in these inbetween or not. Actually, I don't know if I could even like this, like I wasn't allowed to enjoy this in the first place, just because it's not something natural, I guess. But I do prefer being out of my mind for a few minutes, since I long so deeply to be outside of it forever.

terça-feira, 23 de junho de 2015

About mess & homes

        I live in a mess. My room is always so messy, but I can't help it even if I try to clean it up often, because in the end of the day, even if I do absolutely nothing in there, it will be messy anyway. It matches my mind, and that's me trying to be poetic about it, but it's not. There's a war I battle everyday with myself, I struggle so much that maybe it ends up flowing out through my actions and then it happens with everything & everywhere I'm around. It's like I live in a deep & dark forest on my own, and sometimes I get lost and sometimes I find myself, and it repeats over and over again, but most of the time I just find myself even more lost than the last time, and it should hurt, but it doesn't, it's just so usual for me to be lost between the corners of my ominous mind that I'm just numb about it, even if I still try to find my way back to where I can be safe. And it's nowhere near my head, and this is what hurts, because if I can't be safe inside myself, so where will I be? Making home out of people is pretty much exhausting & not so much trust worthy because they always end up leaving, eventually. And what happens if they take me together, wherever they go? I'll just be lost, over again, and there will be missing parts of me around the world that I don't even know where to start looking for. But maybe I don't need these parts, perhaps I'm supposed to be emptied little by little so maybe I can be filled in with new sort of good things, but these good things are never enough to fulfill a sick body that longs for emptiness in order to fill itself with such gloom & darkness, because once darkness hits you, you can never really get rid of it, and I don't even want to, if you ask me. There are some things in life that we can grow used to, and darkness is one of them. The light in the end of the tunnel will always just be a mischievous train, full of bad thoughts and a heavy atmosphere, almost unbearable. But you know what? I'll always be there, laying down in the tracks, waiting for it to come and pass over me. I don't wish for it to kill me, but someday it will, it's just that I've grew stronger against its weight, but one day I'll no longer be. That's who I am. And the train is coming, again.

segunda-feira, 22 de junho de 2015

Só mais uma

        Pego o pincel e escrevo na tela da vida o poema mais ridículo que já li, em forma de linhas e contornos e volume e expressões, com as cores de um navio naufragado em suas próprias desilusões. Não há nada como uma boa tragédia para alimentar a alma: o sangue que escorre pela tela é o mesmo em que percorre minhas veias, e acredite, eu pintaria isso mil vezes e ainda assim não me cansaria. E, talvez, quando chegasse ao meu limite, eu começasse a usar lágrimas como tinta, assim não desperdiçaria com manchas noturnas no travesseiro ou no colo de alguém tão desamparado quanto eu: mutualidade. A vida se encarrega da ironia de nos deixar a sós com nós mesmos quando encontramos outro alguém que compartilha o mesmo fundo do poço. Mas nunca parece ter fundo, não é mesmo? Como quando acordamos a cada dia desejando que ele já terminasse no instante seguinte, ou como quando nos deparamos com aquela pessoa cansada e solitária tentando fingir um sorriso no espelho: "tá tudo bem, é só mais uma segunda feira." Só mais uma segunda, só mais uma semana, só mais uma vida desperdiçada em poemas e palavras soltas que formam um círculo vicioso que ninguém mais aguenta. E aí, quando você percebe isso, bum, percebe também que parece ter encontrado de fato o fundo desse poço infinito. Mas então toca o alarme: "é só mais uma segunda feira".

quinta-feira, 18 de junho de 2015

Ode à dimensão onde me encontro cada vez que fujo de mim mesma

         Aquela noite eu acordei me sentindo embriagada. Não de álcool, mas de angústia. Eu não conseguia mover um dedo sem sentir dor em todas as partes do corpo, especialmente a cabeça. Ela era a que mais doía. Você acordou e me notou na minha solidão, mas aquilo era mais do que parecia - a despersonalização já estava presente e, apesar de parecer, eu não estava mais ali. Balbuciei algo quando te ouvi falar, e percebi que saia do quarto dizendo que já voltava. Não volte, eu pensei. Você não vai querer me encontrar aqui dessa maneira. Não volte. Mas volte, eu preciso da tua ajuda. Você se foi e eu me levantei, procurei por seu canivete como um viciado procura por um pouco de pó no meio de sua bagunça, e me joguei no chão gelado. Sangrei e não senti. Eu ainda não estava ali. Quando será que eu voltarei? Pensei. Você ouviu meus pensamentos e chegou até mim, me segurando com força para tirar o canivete de minhas mãos, e o guardou no bolso. Não volte, não volte, não volte. Me ouvi gritar, de repente. Você então colocou o cobertor sobre minhas pernas e me aconchegou em seu abraço. A minha perna fervia e ardia, e no entanto, eu nada sentia. Não volte, pensei. Mas você voltou, e eu agradeci por te ter comigo uma vez mais.

segunda-feira, 1 de junho de 2015

Lost & found

        I went to a pretty and dark forest last night. I started collecting the biggest leaves I could find lying on earth. So I stumbled by this huge tree, with long and thick branches, and decided to sit right below them. They made me feel cozy, like I was in someone's loving arms, and with my eyes closed, they were holding me so carefully & beautifully that I almost couldn't feel its strength bringing me back together, all those tiny shattered pieces I have left over the floor, for all these years. I was like a tree, losing its leaves as the time passes - but I was losing parts of my own, not because they had to leave me, like those leaves, but because I had no strength to hold them back - I was falling apart. And in a sudden, everything seemed fine for a moment. I was now a whole again, not some random lost piece waiting to be found. And while I thought all of it, I could feel my body blending in with the forest, with the vivid deep green, with that strong and old tree. I was now a part of the nature - as I always have been, but just couldn't see it. I was alive, then, and strong.
        Oh, I wish I hadn't woken up.
 

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