“We are like roses that have never bothered to bloom when we should have bloomed and it is as if the sun has become disgusted with waiting”.

02
Nov 12


A provocation to loneliness, when all the best ends up into a grand march that doesn't fit you.

Insisting looks and cheap perfumes on trampled sidewalks are aggressions that I won’t answer to.

I try, I swear, I doubt, fail, I tried, I tried, I tried.

Just another witness… ain't seen it coming.

I was sitting there and yes, I could still watch silhouettes dancing, with some kind of interest.

I ain't seen it coming, month by month experimenting the distress of not seeing sense in the cadence of bodies.

I'm sitting back in a place and watching the world declining, slowly as a grandpa.

All wrinkles drawn with millions of shoes used on the side of complacency.

It's simply not for me.

I tried to give it all sense.

I tried to love perfume again.

I tried to give it all meaning.

tried to remember.

In the morning of my world, all loved has ceased.

And in the end it is only

you,

me and the violence, with no kind limitation.

Before the death of all hearts, when all love will cease, the hope is saving.

Give me a way to see clear into this foggy sea.

Slowly we walk to the end of our dreams.


Gosto muito, mesmo muito sim, gosto muito dessas três palavras emparelhadas, gosto da forma impetuosa

com que ele deixa que as palavras se lhe desaguem da garganta e da urgência da música, casada com a

pressa das palavras perenes ainda cheias de saliva.

In the morning of my world, all loved has ceased. And in the end it is only you, me and the violence…

Que bom.

Já vejo lá ao longe esse trecho a servir-me de epígrafe porque in the end… it is only:

you,

me

and the violence…

The violence.

publicado por Ligeia Noire às 12:52
etiquetas: ,

mais sobre mim
Novembro 2012
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