I miss you.
I assume you must
Miss me too. Do you not?
I can’t help but measure
The miles your
Life has moved away from the beauty
Of our linked lives. By
Leaving, you covered the
Many merry memories, creating distance.
But I know that doesn’t mean nothing to you.
Because you are
Someone who tried to let me loose from
My lonely longing for death.
Já depois de tanto tempo perdido
Aqui, ainda quero que fique. Às 3h da matina, espero acordado olhando para a luz que queima minha minha alma e me mantem alucinado
Alucinado e condicionado.
Me viciei no celular, como em ti,
um que me mantem desconectado
Desfamiliarizado, com o sentir, que tu já não está aqui
E me afogo afogo
Em nada e perco perco
Se já perdi
Naquela madrugada fui fumar para tentar me encontrar
Choro até chegar em casa e só o celular e o sono afogam meus soluços
para ta na cara que não tem mais eu e você
para ta na cara
(Yet Another) Portrait Of A Friend
I have a friend
Who has a perfect memory.
You might think it’s a perfect gift.
We have to sift through thoughts –
That is, you, I – but he,
He pictures everything,
Recalls it all: dates, times, the history
Complete. What could be wrong
With knowing all the lyrics to each song
Draw near, I’ll tell you:
He retains the good and bad.
He’s filtered nothing. Think if you should
Shoulder all the woes of life?
The sad, the mad, the wars, the strife?
Besides the perfect recall,
He sees everything in black and white:
It’s either awe-inspiring or shit.
I’d guess it’s vexing
To remember each and every second
And, on top of which, to have opinions strong,
Be never wrong: one of his ‘strong’ opinions .
Plus, he takes offense, pretends indifference.
Yet, we’re friends.
I always yield, always bend.
You see, I am indifferent
And I’m charmed.
(Yet Another) Portrait Of A Friend 10.19.2016
Love Relationships II; Special People, Special Occasions; Small Stories Book;
A mast, the towered communant
Comfortably laid on spread fields
The home of radio, a rest for birds
A paced place for absurd resolutions
Mercies at the heart of the crust
As the metal chills, the ails fills
Milled and crushed, milked pasts
Termed as rants, an inborn trust
A must to nurture,our sealed words
Dreams that steam the indefinite chase
The uproar, an uprise, unpriced, untapped
A merry to par, to align, grow and ground
When sad sorrow shines bright and hope is dim,
liberation is sought by troubled souls
who tumble too close to the fatal brim
of a cliff where faith sinks beyond control.
'Cross the horiz'n there's a glint of gold gates
where calm waters wait among the smooth stones.
In the sound of the world, this is the place:
a solace for souls and rest for the bones.
Where flashing lies turn to soft gentle eyes
as their dreams are cradled by omniscient trees,
healing waters flow through the wish-filled skies,
and those once weary sing strong in the breeze.
This must be the place where dull shadows shine
and even dreaded darkness dares to dream.