Mensagens

Route

Foreclosure. What was spoken, laid in silence, craving existence, followed in lights of old, carried by the young, unwilling and blind. Strip the venue of excitement, clauses follow suit, no issue is left unhandled, for obscure musings, uncertain details, that reveal no information at all. It carries the text of pictures, social media revenue and relevance, which once was fought for, is bought with nameless acts of disconposure, personal disdain, sleepless nights. The undead body that drags the zombie along, morbid in status. And does anyone really care? Stitch the skin, to make a smily face, we tried it before, over and over and over, in continuity of insanity. The struggle follows the flow of ineptitude, the delusion of knowing, knows not no limit nor boundary. A chain and a rattle, them bones that shove you one, are you still breathing? Do you still breed? Expectations are lowered, the gene pool is clearly tainted, the generation that follows has a vague idea of the one that preced...
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Beyond the veil

Only cretins, devoid of feelings, scour land and sea. Search for a nexus of easy fame, of easy fame, disguised with vain attempts at irony. Creation is feeble, bathed in failed veils of madness, for sanity long left the discourse. Discord settles illusion and the tell tale of madness follows the plight for coercion. It all decays. Left with a spiral of ruin, the laughter spins madness and the blind oblige. Brick by brick the stone road is paved in gravel. Meaningless. For certain travel around the course of life, drop the subject of serene disdain. It all spirals and encases the melodrama, getting unraveled. In a sense of lonesomeness, the flight takes place, guided by sonar and visual impairment is in place. No wonder the order wanders for wanderers that copy the flow of what shakes the earth, in the eyes of unsettled dispute. It all, in maddening muddled sway, plunge and escape. Is the time, the time to dock for hours, the time to escape, to clear the rule of thumb, we know of not wh...
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Onde?

 Quem me dera perceber Toda a minha insanidade Todo e qualquer vislumbre da minha doce sanidade que escondo nas sombras. Quem me dera esse vislumbre, de serena insanidade. Por consequência de viver,não sei, não conheço... Não reconheço. Mas por tudo. Abraço o inconsistente.   É toda uma experiência que não sei. Quero, por saber, por conhecer, que um abraço me venha de ti. Que uma noite seja contigo.   Não me chega um beijo contigo. Não me chega uma noite. Não me chega um segredo.   Quero te a ti. Quero o teu murmúrio. Quero o teu domínio e todo o teu ser no teu beijo e no teu devaneio.   Se ainda procuras, eu não sei de ti, Mas por tudo Alguma vez escolhi.   Raro anexo de loucura e sanidade. Tangente dos meus sonhos e realidade obtusa. Anexada a mim...
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Habitação

 Se a mente é uma casa, portas abertas deveria ter. Nos seus confins certos e emparedados, o pensamento deveria correr. Se a mente é clara, segunda e sem fim, certamente que esperaríamos, do amanhecer ao anoitecer, uma segunda via de vida, correctamente sem perceber. Pelas coisas que vamos descrevendo, sempre atentos ao que vai de nós, pela leitura diagonal, coisas que vamos perdendo. Sempre que podemos, sempre que somos, pela forma que vamos vivendo, que vamos passando, que vamos falando, escutando e lutando. Coisas, enfim, que devemos encaixar. Abre-se a porta da casa mental, somos pelos confins dela perdidos, a cada voltar de esquina, somos uma pessoa diferente do que cortou essa esquina. Pela ordem unilateral, de pensamento, de dissociação… Cada escolha aparente, pelo momento, pelo vivente. Abre-se a porta da casa mental, fecham-se as janelas, nem uma aragem parece passar. Sufoco. Não há como respirar, não há como escutar, não há como viver. Coordenação inepta. Se cada palavra ...
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Where?

Should have brought a writing utensil. Should have drawn all over the tables. Should have sprained all the words, dividing them to new meanings. Should have crashed the sky. Should have sent it all falling down, restraining all sense of causality. Should have fought the waves that crashed. Should have proclaimed the end of the day. Should have embraced fire. Should have danced with sweet embrace. Above all, should have chosen what was wrong, to try out all the steps that make a mountain. Although in perspective, how will I know if my steps have been right? Should have clashed with the clouds, bathing in the falling rain. Should have asked for forgetfulness, as forgiveness is never tame. Then with arms wide crossed, approach the world defenseless, in contrast to expectation. Should have made allied of m my confusion so not to confuse myself in this tiring time. Should have asked for more? No, it makes no sense. Shut your eyes, wide awake, twist again in the high tides of time. Should ha...
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Winter monster?

Refer to my madness, winter eyes, will you not look beyond as the savage men cried. Secluded in himself, averts his eyes, for all the sunshine cannot be from a brighter smile. Take rude precaution, thread lightly if you will, for in an instance of reason, the train of consequences derailed. Check for pulse, a no resuscitation not lays dangling from his neck torn from head to toe, no more lips or gums to flap. Cut the rope and dangle the line, mast to stern, no captain nor rime. Gaze at the clock both hands are missing, stillness and silence, horror of winter at the door. The look into winter's eyes, for more descriptions to follow, winter in itself, a construct disguise. Shall we look, amazed, lost and dumbfounded, deeply into Winter's eyes? Your sentence, lost for conclusion. Your eyes, stuck to her visage. And with a giggle, a haughty smile, Winter leaves. Weight yourself, take note of more weight at heart. Winter left, left you behind.
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Static

Static electricity and static cling. For all left aloof nothing can divide. The mind in its wisdom did try to hide. A slice of science for the untrained eye. Static discharge, shock to the senses. Colliding realities based on lies. Foretold discrepancies asinine bigoted cries. A temporal still, closer to the blind. Static motions, close to home far from the sky. Going down a metal pipe, compressed and diluted. Scary notions, what a life. Erode and decay, stillness declines. Static mind, mental shun. Cramped thoughts and apathetic replies. Disconnection and dissolution. Care to jump in and try? Static notion, voided warranty. Scrambled calls and innuendo filled speeches. Faster backwards, idiotic conclusion. Shutter for silence, statically clinging to static mind.
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What never changes

Run afoot the flame, cold fire in separate horror. Entail, all the stories, confusion and malice, the shock of ages that seems to put off the flame of existence. Bury it, notify next of kin, only to find that nobody came to care, no profit, no loss. Scream, avarice and gluttony. We the distinguished dead, lay to pay entrance, two golden coins. Note however the price has changed. Note that we have come to a standstill. Douse the flame with gasoline, get drunk on napalm. All idiotic, craving down and carving in, the students of self-destruction. Escalate the notion, the war was always our pact. Charge ahead. Cut the countless loses. You never looked back. Canvas overhead, bound and blind innocent. Do you still know someone like that?
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