dark inner siiiiiiiiiiiiide

fuck fuck fuck I scream myself as if to memorize
not its meaning
but its function

i have to lit a cigarette, a habit which I had so proudly given up before the beginning of this month, in order to contain this need of solving all problems at once

it's been two years since i moved out to face the dark, inner side of the soul,
trying to find inspiration in the poets, who seem to be the only ones tho managed to manage solitude without becoming fucking monks.
the poets, they just hang around, they come across random muses, and they ignore time, space or context to spend the longest possible with them. they ignore the dirty of the ashtrays, the roughness of their wallets' leather, the lack of a laundry, solely taking advantage of what's good.
they shake to avoid thinking.

books pile up around, pretty interesting phenomena,
they're like weed on the surface of searocks,
they keep growing by themselves,
except, of course, they are not alive,
they aren't on their own will,
they're on mine.

same happens to records, lps and cds
spotify released me from downloading
i'm no longer a criminal!

two years is a lot,
I now, who'd tell, breed spiders under this very roof

my neighbours, they hate me, and i love them
for two years they have been made victims of home renting industry who has put me in here through a refirmed contract of one and a half year

i've learnt bureaucratic shit
i've learnt shit may take time to happen
i've learnt shit happens faster to some ones
i've learnt you won't have your shit done unless you sit down and do it

i still have one more
and then, who knows where the fuck i'm gonna end up in

this is was an unbelievable fuckin individual mess
to every fuckin one i know!
for the most divergent reasons availuable in this god damned planet

there are towells hanging, and peed clothes waiting to be washed in the bucket, there is crappy tv, and a very impatiaent old lady who can't stand sexual interaction 3m under her very bed

i've learnt mute fuck
i've learnt laying the mattress on the floor

i even dressed as a spider

before it ends, impressive acts of the year

raveonettes - pea'hi
mastodon - one more 'round the sun
chet faker - built on glass
killer be killed - killer be killed
calvin harris - motion
afghan whigs - do the beast

and i wish i put myself on that list buuuuuuuuuut
i've learnt shit may take time to happen

so life has proved again to be an extention of my teenages
a big fuck all disguised in attempt and effort

in two years, the river wind is still the best thing around

my first adult christmas: no christian affection of any sort
my first adult vacation: not working is just the best feeling in the world



O meu referencial de amor

O meu referencial de amor, que dor, se foi - a minha cama amanheceu vazia, amparada pela luz de um meio dia que  anos havia te via despertar (solene e doce).

o substrato dessa linda poesia me deixou, linha por linha até que não restasse mais nada do que sou

As vezes tudo o que quero é o som da chuva forte pra retardar o silêncio opressor do pensamento.

Mas n hj