Sunday

Sunday
For some a day to find themselves,
for others a day to full fill their religious manners
For a child an endless day or a day out.
For some a day to go to work
For others a day to relax.
For some a day to get there work done that needed to be done. For some
family's a day to come together.
But whatever you do Sunday might be the day that everything comes together,
for the ones that try to find them selves enough time to think
for the one that full fill their religious manners it is a day the find themselves in what they believe.
For a child without realising, that time does not stand still.
For the one that has to work, a day that doesn't feel like a weekday.
For the ones that relax it might not be so relaxing as they thought.
For the family's that come to getter a bound building experience.For me a day that it is sometimes a day to think, a religious day, a family day, a day to get my schoolwork done or and endless long day. A day i appreciate.

da desilusão

Como o cabelo dourado de Sansão, que cai as seus pés, eu sinto-me enfraquecida pela ilusão constipada que recai agora sobre mim. Quase mutilada pelo corte enraivecido tecido sobre as minhas costas viradas, acrescento que não estava a espera. Apaixonada por este guardar em mim de uma seguraça sã, de quem acredita que a amizade curada é capaz de se guardar ao ardor dos épicos mais sagrados. Mas há heresia ainda assim nessas camadas negras da vida; quando a força nos é retirada, o amor é dedilhado como se fosse a maldade mais negra, como se a minha mão, olhar, dignidade e entrega fossem substituíveis. Ao menos que o sejam com a morte, com o amor, com a forte desgraça; não apenas com vingança. Como Dalila.

Mortality is not the same as death. Someone who's mortal can be undead, even if the heart stops to beat, the lungs stop to breathe, and eyelashes can not feel the wind anymore. Someone who is dead is not missed, can only be in darkness. Someone who is dead was never awake; never came to life. Someone mortal will always be alive. Even if the hearts stops to beat, lungs stop to breathe, eyeslashes won't be able to feel the wind anymore. The palm of the hand will be turned up, contrary to the rotating movement of the earth, and the mouth will be as sad as my heart without you. Life is extraordinary; can not be ceased. Like life haven't wait for us, and we fell apart like we've never been. And the sadness has limits, but loss will always have us.

Drawings of black butterflies fill the page, up and down, in the corners. In the middle a picture of you, moving the eyes in the darkness, full of expectations and desires. This is the memory that persists. The monster who can not sleep, reminds me we are like children playing in a dead house, with broken bones and emancipated feelings. Fred told me once I am a child who can not see you coming. But that you keep on swimming, you keep on screaming to reach out for me. I don't know if I can trust Fred. Who can trust in me either way?

Curses

"Broken sticks and broken stones Will turn to dust just like our bones. It's words that hurt the most now isn't it. Are you sad inside, are you home alone If I could just pick up the phone Maybe you could see a better day And you won't waste away under my watchful eye Because I'm your hero and you're my weakness.
Who's gonna break my fall When the spinning starts. The colors bleed together and fade Was it ever there at all Or have I lost my way. The path of least resistance Is catching up with me again today.

I'm broken down, not good enough, The broken promises add up To twice their weight in tears which I have caused. I'm afraid to sink, I'm afraid to swim I'm sad to say I miss my friends I know that I'm supposed to step away But they need me to stay and keep a watchful eye On all my heroes and all their demons.

But who's gonna break my fall, When the spinning starts. The colors bleed together and fade Was it ever there at all Or have I lost my way. The path of least resistance is catching up with me again, Not today, Not today.

Was it ever there at all And have I lost my way, The path of least resistance Is catching up with me again today Again today."

I always thought that I could make it on my own.
And all this time I did made it on my own, but now it is getting harder.
I wish I could explain how I feel, to the person I need to explain to.
But the fact is I haven't figure it out yet.
I don't know what I'm suppose to feel but,
but I wish I did.
I know it will hurt you, like it's hurting me right now.
I need some time and space to think, to figure it all out.
Because I don't want my words to hurt you.
I want to make it on my own, but I might need some help this time.

I remember how was like to start the adventure. THE adventure. Turning my back to everything, the only things that were capable of making me feel safe. My home, the few friends I keep keeping through the years, the family that was sad for letting me go, but proud at the same time; because someone capable of making such a move it's sort of a hero. What I haven't told them is that I never went away because I'm an adventurer, but because there were some questions I was questing, of fear, of death.

At the time I was bringing death inside me in form of fear. The fear that covered my skin was my mask for the long months that would come, and the mask that would fall out near the end, near the time to get the train back. At that time I felt loved. Loved and missed by my friends and people I knew that once and again were telling me I was deeply missed. But I felt loved by my family most of all. It seem to me their days couldn't just go on without me. They couldn't live without me, or they could but without the freedom, because the baby wasn't in here. And I felt alive, because every single day I was living a new dream, every single day I could be what I am without being tired of walking because there was no far away there, no fear, no death.

I was waiting to see you to realize she left forever. Because I cried listening you crying. But there's was no clear impact. I couldn't feal much more than an empty hole on the knowledge of the living people. But she was gone, and I felt in one side sadness, because I wanted to be there, here, and pride for being strong enough for letting me stay there, or acceptance for not being able to do nothing more.

But until now she's here. I can't let her go, because I wasn't here to hold her hand one last time, or to see her die, or to see her saying goodbye. All I have is one letter, capable of being more immortal than one single moment, but it can't really touch my skin, and heart, and soul.

So she's here, still. On a last letter.

And I felt wanted when I was there. On a classroom I felt loved, I felt I could be there forever, because my sisters said how much I was missed, the laugh on the corners of the house, my smile, and a dark room with a movie on the laptop. And my mom, she was always so caring and she loved me there, more than she can show now.

Now in here, nobody gives me value. I'm just back to stay. I'm real again, and so what I was I will never be again. Loved, cared, missed in fantasy, in distance, in soul.

I know it seems I let you go. I know it seems I catched time, and now it belongs to me. But I haven't let you go, and time doesn't belong to me.
I know it seems I don't care for you, or for this distance, so crude, painfull and real. All the silence does make it feel even more real, but I can't help it, 'cause, ok, I'm letting it go now, I don't want to be the only one in pain. I don't want to be the only one who remembers all of it, all the steps in the dark, or twilight, all the sounds, all the cries and smiles, and laughs. I don't. I close my eyes and I see you coming. But you're not smiling, you are coming to let me know you don't remember any of us, nothing we were. You're coming to tell me we never were anything, just an excuse to bear with loss and heart burns. You are coming to let me know I'm so foolish for believing love is real, and memories are eternal. You are not coming to stay, just like we were born to be apart. And it all doesn't hurt anymore, it's just so scary for not having any opportunity for change and mutation. I am a mutation of you. And you walk in my skin, and you live inside me. I will let you go when and where you want to go; you can go and let all doors open. But just let it be like that. Don't close them.

I know it seems I forgot. But it's all masks. Can't you see? It seems Carnival. It seems lonely, it's a long road without civilization, it seems like a dark winter. It seems despair, and an eternal prision.
I know I could send letters, I know I could touch more. I know it's always you who call; I know it's always me who says I miss you.

But I just can't live with or without you. And so, then, I just keep myself sitting. Waiting. Wishing.

run for this

Just let me love you. Let me show there's no deeper despair than falling without no one to let us know that the world stills complete, only our hearts are broken, only despair is real. Ours. But there's hunger, there's war, there's death and we still can't control hearts bleeding.
Let me show you the world, let me show you're fortunate enough to feel it, 'cause you're here, and without grass, without tons of dark stones, and magnificient walls of sand the world keeps itself spinning wether you like it or not. The world can't wait for you. But I will, and if we must we'll keep running until we'll catch that sunset again with the world on our shoulders.

there's hate like roses, there's panic, a room of panic, a panic room. I'm exausted, so tired, so drowned in a hundred beds of silk sheets, with spiders, with you. Panic rooms, empty of you, full of me.

I'm so tired of my life. Every day my skin thinks she's capable of absorving a new cool brise, but that ideal is foolish, it's a terrible ideal for those who dream higher than this passion for you. god, sacrifice all the shit a human heart cannot heal, because I want to scream and I dare not. I just want to go home.


the land of the free, and the home of the brave.

clear water, clear wind, clear dust

Just need to sit outside, country on one side, city behind me, and a house on my left. Want the airplanes far away, and the highways forget, want a little snow flake, and a cry upstairs. Want to know it is not forever, but even then live the sound of eternity. Because some things can remain warm even through the darkest and the coldest winter. The softness of your baby skin, a hard floor against my chest, lights, tree lights, christmas lights. Real christmas lights. And a pool over there, a pool that is always listening to the twilight; that holds the skie's tears, and the emptiness of its face, when it's warm weather. The clear forgiveness of the attitudes, clear as water, as wind, as dust.
And in here, having with me the immortal knowledge that you are forever. It makes me want to go back, because there's someone wanting me. Myself.

"Living here day by day, you think it's the center of the world. You believe nothing will ever change. Then you leave: a year, two years. When you come back, everything's changed. The thread's broken. What you came to find isn't there. What was yours is gone. You have to go away for a long time... many years... before you can come back and find your people. The land where you were born. But now, no. It's not possible. Right now you're blinder than I am."


Nuovo Cinema Paradiso, Giuseppe Tornatore

It's gotta be my turn now. I need to show my sadness and I want everybody to notice I can not breathe. I want to cry in front of a store, in front of a doll and I want the doll to confort me. I need a colder touch than my own, I need to feel something more. I write this in despair, tomorrow's the day, tomorrow's just one more day, christmas eve. And I write the tears that Ihave right now, and the air I can not have for myself. I don't have time for me anymore. But I need that time, now. Preciso que tudo se desmorone. Não consigo aceitar tudo e não ter nada para mim. Needs that are lost inside all the things we can not hide. I know I'm not the only one that's willing to die, to not feel this. Because this is not good to feel at all. I feel lonely, in the dark, emancipated from obsessions that were never mine, because I've never been obsessive about anything. And maybe my own problem is that. Being so nude of warm feelings. And at the same time it's warm I feel. I can not breathe. Help me breathe. Ajuda-me, por favor.

Embrace

Psychosometic insomnia. Nightmares. Somewhere in between, there's where my subcounsciousness lies. The zombie, vampire myth embraces me, and I feel the weight of immortality over my shoulders, over my heart, over my everything. But there's more than loneliness you know? There's a deep and grotesque feeling of solitude that is hanged on my eyelashes that distort that image of my everything.
And the feeling of being, becomes a mistery, something that if no one can explain, describe, I can not feel. The what becomes who, who is always you, you become me, 'cause I'm made of you. In my skin that cries your distance.