The question now resides:

what connects you and I
is it as omnipresent and wide
like dark matter itself,
or is just a bright shooting star
that crosses the sky
and eventually says goodbye?

 ... the thought that I could let them go and not even miss them it does cross my mind and it's a bit scary at the same time...

Tragic Jokers

 Do we make jokes to survive
or do we find joy in sadness?

Is it just the tragical comedy of life
that we're living, 
or do we sear because we're alive? 

How will we know it the joy we feel is true?

Will we ever have our blessed peace
in our arms?

Do tragic jokers deserve to be happy?

I thought I had ceased the questioning,
had shed the darkness into the light,
but now it seems I can never be fully alright.

I still wonder if all it takes is you,
or are you always just and only,
eternally bound
to be a tragic joker like me.

To be a being...

 To be a being that doesn't know how to be
I'm always just too sober and with nowhere to go

Seldom I think of running away with you
but I still know you're no good for me
or for yourself

I never try to find the will to overcome it
I only fight to go on and do it
'cause if I think about it I won't

Knowing that it's not worth it
anything you do
won't matter a thing
and everything's been written
I'm just a clown in this game

while listening to Carolina - Carminho + Chico Buarque

 The sound of the Portuguese guitars
makes my soul drown in the biggest melancholy ever
It rips from my chest all the scraps of any hope
and makes my heart bleed with undying pain

All this because it tells me truth in its crying chords
that weep all the disappointing evidences
that I never analyzed on paper against the pros

Sometimes I wish I had never felt what loving is
because it makes me feel the stupidest person
to know that I was already aching
for not being able to be with everyone 
and even so I started loving more than a dozen people
and yet another person that contains all my love
and all I am and life itself

I never took those words about me so in:
"you're the person that is able to love more and more people than every one else that I know";
But now I'm taking it in the worst manner ever.

Why did I have to do undergo all this I don't know:
from not feeling anything to feeling so much.

I thanked you but I guess I shouldn't have.
I wish I was like you and everyone else,
who doesn't feel anything for others and only for himself.

 I touched my neck
I felt your skin
The skin I never felt

I touched my hand
I felt your fingers
The fingers I never felt

And I wish I could touch your face
And I could gently strike your hair
Because nothing would make more glad
Than give you all this loving grace


P.S.: It's a pretty love indeed (can't say nothing against that)

 It's been some hard days on my mind, feeling like it's raining all the time, or about to explode with so much confusion in its abode. 
In fact, it has been cold and rainy outside the window that I seldom open, I don't even know the scope of it being broken.
But through it all, on the background hidden, there's the glimpse of a small flame like from candle light and the warmth of a firebond, that whenever I risk to look better at it I feel it's like the incandescence of the sun burning through space itself.
If I'm ash, how can I burn; if I'm the blue-crow tattooed on my chest, how am I the phoenix?
I guess I'm just like the tired photograph of the night streetlights that we'll never see together.

I shall not stay

 I shall not stay with this belly ache of emotional crisis

I shall not stay with this turmoil in the disappearing brain

I shall not stay with pain in my chest twisting me inside out

I shall not stay in this constant remembrance of you 

I shall not stay with this feeling of uselessness of not being able to save you

I shall not stay with this feeling that I can't rip away the pain out of you

I shall not stay with this overwhelmingness of the soul ripping my body

I shall not stay with this deep abyss sadness dwelling for losing you to life

I shall not stay

I shall not

I shall

(while listening to May as Well by Angel Olsen)

You're the singer of my life

Sometimes I feel I'm playing with fire but there are a few times when it feels awesome to dance on the edge of the flame You're the sunbeam where the infinite resides, you're its ray of light that burns through darkness incinerating it. You're everything, you're every word, you're every song and every note. and there's nothing deeper inside us than each other.

Who are you when you're not in love?

She had to see you in your worst to know you truly and see if she could love you like that, all of you, as you are.

She cannot tell you that she loves you because everything is forbidden to her, she is punished by the night and the death, to roam sleepless, endlessly locked up behind the barred windows.
In the impossibility of everything, she has to suffocate her feelings in her general slow decay.

Can love ever be pure again?

What do you do when you're lacking a huge piece of your soul that is so distantly unattainable and craving it so enormously that you feel the hole inside your chest all the time?

Two decades ago, she had her soul stolen; went back to get it and said goodbye. But now it's completely different, I guess, it's somewhat inexplicable.

Maybe one day, more twenty years past, they will see each other as they imagined: while she plays the violin on a concert and he applauds crying at the sight of her from the audience. "Bravo!"

But life is never quite like in the movies, is it?


(after watching On Chesil Beach, on new year's eve on tv)