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May 2014 · 425
The Wall of the Visitors
Jonas Gonçalves May 2014
Lying on the cool floor
and hoping that the locomotive
crossed our view,
we realize what the older enjoyed.

Gray stones show us
how much the landscape changed.
And too late the people wake up,
and too early the people discuss.

It was the fear and disdain
which provoked a bitterness
able to tear us apart from our friends.
It was the insanity of the visitors
which limited the peace of those faces.
It was a fool humanity
which deprived the happiness of those children.

At nine o'clock, the lights are gone out.
I come back home in a fog,
being followed by screams of loneliness
and, often, screams of panic.

At ten o'clock, I covet the sleep,
the tomorrow, the old age, but not the death!
Because even being sorrounded by madness,
I still hope a solution.

At eleven o'clock, my ravings drive me away.
Now I run the first escape from this prison,
destroying this forsaken wall.

At twelve o'clock, I delight to a deep pleasure
and I try to remember what I did in that dawn.
However, it seems to be an unreachable memory.

Inside this abyss:
aversions don't disappear,
memories don't return
and lovers don't survive.

We're the young who throw
their sorrows in the ocean.
What might be the world's ******,
now is hidden
by the cruelest minds.
Bring to my feet the best of the infinity:
forgotten promises and inappropriate feelings.

From the window I watched the bricks fall
like leaves of a pleasant autumn.
It shivered the skin and silenced the screams,
screams of exaltation now.
And the escape is not needed anymore.
May 2014 · 732
Memories
Jonas Gonçalves May 2014
Among the wagons
I found the affection
which one day made me cry.
And maybe that has never been
pure enough.

If I were a foreigner,
I could steal your kindness.
But I know you so well
that I hesitate to behave like this.

When the days darken,
not up to eyes one solution.
However, for them,
we should be dancing
without fear of falling asleep
in a brave world
which doesn't stop spinning.

I saw my friends
walk aimlessly
carrying on their faces
the picture of deception.

I felt safe for not having surrendered
as well as I felt sad for them,
because they had a hole in their *******
so much that they risked their hearts.

The despair took over of my hands,
and even with homesick,
I wished an escape abroad again,
because here sorrow was done.

I never imagined
my memories returning;
they're so fragile which prevent us
to live peacefully.

Hiding from the storm
is just another form of melancholy
which our parents avoid having.
Fleeing this suffocation,
they still blame us
by all this city's fears.

So, on behalf of my friends,
I ask you to there are no regrets
and I ask you to give support to their bodies.

Your supplications were believable.
Now, they're just ambitions.
I don't know if I should worry,
but, while they don't hurt
our wrists like punishment,
I will feel safe near you.

— The End —