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felipe-thomas
22/M
we're all eating stuff that will probably **** ourselves earlier than expected but why would I care about that if I already smoke as much as I do? you take pills so you don't hate yourself they turn you into a faceless zombie with no expressions or feelings you take pills so you don't **** yourself but even so there's no longer a smile on your face or energy in your bones to go out and meet people and do stuff as you used to back when we met seasons change as fast as my hair grows and I slowly grow older smaller thinner eventually I'll lose my meaning to you as you have already lost to yourself we'll all grow tired of each other as quickly as we once grew fond and when our strength to love ourselves is no longer present - probably prior to the end of the next year maybe we can finally do what we think about when we're alone at night: to **** ourselves so we don't hate ourselves
0
Dec 31, 2019
Dec 31, 2019 at 10:15 AM UTC
faceless, meaningless
right now your feet are touching mine while each of us enjoys their own space and yet we're still together i wonder if this is how you want us to be: separate whenever we feel like being apart but passionate when we care about being together your joyful laugh never ceases to steal my attention and your neck keeps on attracting me as if calling my name while I'm half awake i feel like i should be worried - i could be falling into a deep dark hole but still i feel so secure and safe whenever I'm beside you and i want to kiss your forehead and tell you i really really like you because you're funny and cute and **** and amazingly beautiful and interesting and intelligent and I'd really love to fall in love with you
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May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 10:20 PM UTC
the fall
i walk unattentive no care about the steps i take holding your hand going to the train station we sit down side by side you're telling me a story about something related to your young students and i find yet another pink hair stuck in my beard the train arrives all the vampire people start to slowly walk through its double doors dragging their feet along the way we can't find a place to sit so we remain standing up face to face and i find yet again in your expression the very same singularity that made me feel weird and romantic when i first met you i pay close attention to your eyes which reminds me of the sweet smell of coconut shampoo and the way you grin every single time my lips touch your neck we say our simple goodbyes wish each other a good day of work i get off the train and start walking unattentive no care about the steps i take because if i did care i'd also probably realize i'm past the point of seeing you as just another person
0
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 12:54 PM UTC
the girl with the pink hair
i wanted to thank you for these good times sharing drugs and sleeping next to each other after half a night of *** and **** but truth is i feel like changing yet another time not because i'm bored or anything it's just that i can't fall to need someone again i wanted to love and be loved by someone for as long as i can remember you are here exactly when i can't commit i can only exist by your side even though i like to play with your hair while you sleep i can't tell you the whole truth i can't say that i will always fall in love that this is just the way i am but it doesn't mean it'll last it just means that for a little while you were all i thought about this is yet another reason for us to no longer exist together we belong apart our bodies belong apart our thoughts belong apart until we can do something about it i feel like we are a train crash that if had happened in a different context would've put us on the tracks
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Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 11:24 PM UTC
rebound
this is the moment i write about you when i've already drank enough and i find it really hard to write the right words through these wrongful steps i come to say that i'm alright and practically over you not completely alright i still have many exhausts which are gonna hurt me eventually - not in a sentimental way, at least but yeah i'm managing my way through being a single guy at his 20s even though nobody's ever taught him anything about it i was thinking about this today the last girl i tried to get along with was one year younger than me and she was 17 now i'm 21 and i'm completely hopeless in what concerns getting to talk to girls but i don't feel bad - even though i've dreamt about you last night and i'm alright and i truly hope you are as well and i hope you'll read this eventually and feel better i'm gonna get over with alcohol - i don't put my word on the line, but i swear i'll try fare thee well i hope you send me boots of spanish leather (and i hope you get the reference, hahahah)
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Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 1:29 AM UTC
2:22 am
he was standing on the curb a bearded man with a wool cardigan a striped one, made for the winter by strange hands and thrown away for him to find it between pizza boxes in an alley. now I know he was a beggar, but at that time, when I was four, he looked like a funny old man; he blew the smoke from his cigarrette in the night air and he glanced at me as my family got inside the ice cream shop - where the ice cream people are, you know. I had fruit salad in a goblet and laughed at my father's silly panama hat and imagined what I'd be when I grew old. my mother offered me her hand and we went to the car; I kneeled in the backseat, staring through the rear view window I saw the alluring lights of the city and the leather-dressed people standing in front of bars and the funny old man lying in a pool of tomato juice in the same curb I saw him just before; my sister yelled something I don't remember and started crying as my father called the police. I sat on the backseat covering my eyes with my hands and hoped that those deafening sounds would stop and felt so awkward and so thoughtful for not understanding that completely. today, I think about the funny old man dressed in striped clothes lying in that curb and realise that that was not tomato juice, but the key to the understanding of my mind, the only thing that could make a four-yeard-old kid wonder about the death, simple as it is, and about the things that made someone stick a knife in a beggar's belly.
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May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
the striped man
noite que adormece manhã que desperta café que entorpece minha mente entreaberta sonho que é combustível de memórias não vividas sono sempre receptível pra esquecer das idas e fridas responsabilidades que desbotam a alegria da minha vivência pássaros da manhã que desatam os nós da minha consciência gosto dos desgostos de se gostar e do brilho amendoado do teu olhar
0
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
5:11 am
as luzes e os sons da cidade que nessa penumbra são meus fantasmas atraem os sentidos da racionalidade e repelem o instinto de minha consciência o melhor dos meus acidentes e minha doença a incurável, que me faz trabalhar a todo tempo e que me faz saber o que só eu sei; todos os bons rapazes de barbas feitas com argumentos irrefutáveis e namoradas invejáveis têm olhos tão bons quanto os de minha rola eu sou falso, não me atrevo a debater pois, afinal, por que lhes dar meu tempo? eu o faria com algumas poucas pessoas apenas as que me pudessem compreender como as principais moças de meu inconsciente; mas até que alguém assim me encontre sigo caminhando sozinho no início de noite tentando compreender o que é isso e qual a importância de tudo que me circunscreve enquanto sei que nada importa andando a passos lentos fazendo o que calho de fazer encarando minha sombra recém criada pela lua hasteada no céu de piche sentindo o orvalho beijar minhas canelas enquanto espero que alguém jamais se importe comigo.
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May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 7:11 PM UTC
Sereo, eu ser
the cat to the boot and the boot to me from me to the gun and from the gun to my man my gun screams and rustles just like that couch in the garden of yours my man is true and confident the truth and the confidence, themselves, told me so in a gathering held at Sicilia and there was also a wom'n she laughed at my striped pants and kissed me farewell I travelled along with the Mayflower fellas in a tiny yellow rubber boat with black stripes they told me a tale about a guy and a gun with a cat and a boot or could that be a different tale? I don't know better ask Grahame, that fact twister
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May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 5:28 PM UTC
relativeness
it is awkward to look in a mirror I usually see someone I'm not used to talk to that's why none of my dreams never had any of them I would prefer if it was you in mine just like in that Velvet Underground's song "I'd put you in my mirror, I put in front of me" it'd be wonderful to look at it and see you that pale skin of yours, your dark eyes contrasting your pink lips and your unmistakable black sweater this is so wrong I couldn't tell so even if I tried but I get in love way too easily and I might get ****** up the same manner you choose
0
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
For once, at least, you're not a dream