All I can offer is my boredom;
Everything else is already taken.
All my truths and myths,
What would be left
If I gave them away?

Piece by piece
My incompletude defines me.
My senses are left untouched,
My wounds, unhealed,
My thoughts, preserved
In an obscure way.

I give myself away,
And the more I give
The more I see,
The more I am.

When I'm lost
Nothing matters,
Just then can I discover myself.
Nothing more
Than a pool of desires,
Drowning,
Lifting,
Joking desires.

From the clay
In between Araguaia and Tocantins
(The last, which I've bathed)
I was made.
But Guarapiranga, Billings, Tietê and Pinheiros
Settled me.

Here my story was tailored,
Here life showed the rush,
The vibrancy, the flourishing.
Life was made important by the second,
By intensity, by chances.

All we got left
Are our stories,
We are our main characters,
The storyteller,
The author, the god.

We tell, we do, we fight.
We hurt, we cry, we learn.

Yet, a beautiful story
Is meant to be
just an old story.

There are no snowy winters
Here in São Paulo.

The moon is bigger on the dark side,
But I'm moved by the waves of the bright side.
I hide, but I always know
What is it the I hide,
So what's the point?

Inside my missing spaces
I find my own pieces,
In what empty space I fill me,
If I'm defined by my emptiness?

How do I define me with words
Hollow as a flight in space,
Precise and distant definitions,
Incapable of adjusting to a vague chaos,
Only understandable by the light of a microscope,
Unaccessible to signs,
Dissonant of what I feel,
Of a laughable ungrace?

I run from what defines me,
From my sentimental proofs,
I locate myself in what takes me far from home.

I'm uncapable of recognizing me
For I look in the mirror, and I recognize myself:
I know I never had blue eyes,
I know how my hair was, and how it's not anymore,
I know healed wounds hurt more.

I've lived for 500.000 kilometers
Never counted the travels around my world,
But I keep going,
Map and territory,
Language and message,
Thoughts and actions,
Sailing through matter and frequency
Through the ocean that keeps me apart from the world.

I wanted to fly
but the air is light
and my grief, leaden.

A weird dance moved me,
swinging rhythmically
joy and struggles,
laughs and bites,
fear, passion,
insecurity, belonging.

Now, the sun is just the sun.
Colors are just an escapism of gray tones.

Wherever I am, I am,
and it does not matter.
After ages wandering
I cannot find
my old address anymore.

A lost house,
a lost feeling,
a lost thought,
a lost key,
a lost map,
a lost language,
a lost song,
vanished throughout the air,
only to find
myself surrounded
by a complete emptiness.

I am no more
than the sum of matter,
mildly organized thoughts
and an ambiguous willing
to contrast and to blend.

I spire down only to find
that what I've been running from
is growing in front of me.

Is the run my true fuel,
is the endless search my Stockholm jailer?

The more I cope,
the more I run,
the more I fight.

There is nothing new inside of me,
just an absurd,
an eternal stone lifter
who keeps running from faith
faster and faster.

I have no such long memory
to tell if it is a circle,
a straight line,
or just a random circuit.

All I have to do
is keep running.

You've just missed
the starting gun,
and you missed again.

It is not the noise that escaped you,
it is not the muscles that failed,
it is not your brain who mislead.

Feel the track, the traction,
feel the wind slowly growing with speed,
listen your own, intense, heartbeats.
Feel your empty lungs, tired.

Fatigue, pain,
all you will feel.
Compete: lose and win.
Believe the race,
believe the run,
and they exist.

You are not free
For anything given to you.
Freedom is conquered
Through self violence,
Though greedy battles of this.
Freedom is earned for the voices spoken.
Freedom is screamed
Or it is just a fading breath.

Deny yourself
Deny the effortless routines,
Deny chance and deny steadyness.

Freedom is on the other side of truths.

Let the senses expand
Your sense of the world,
Imprison reason,
Understand and accept treason,
Mock your intelligence,
Your abilities.

Rip off your arms,
What's left?
Rip off your legs,
What's left?
Rip off your eyes, ears, mouth,
What's left?
Rip off your judgment,
And what's left?
Rip off your pain.
Nothing is left.

There is a you
Who thinks of you
Who thinks of you
Who thinks of you,
Or there's no one
Who thinks of you?

A dead river flows memories
But no water,
Flows past,
But not present,
Reveal it's wounds,
But completely numb.
Everything, except water, is left.

In madness we're born;
Only madness can quench.

Roll a stone up
roll and roll,
the mountain top
is still out of reach.

Roll a dice,
I know what it will be.
A six, and I'm out of reach.

Tell me your life,
hand me your fears,
I'll reveal your secrets,
and I'll lose interest.

Distance keeps me burning,
I live on the corners
looking for leftovers of lives,
looking for hidden spots,
unknown thoughts,
unspoken chances,
unseen shades of light.

I live today for a tomorrow
I cannot foresee.

We are fragments
who do not fit in a whole world.
If we say we know,
we lie.
If we know we lie,
we are true.
If we know the truth,
we are mistaken.
In mistakes we know.

The faults reveal the existence.
What we write
exposes everything not written.
Our creations show our limitations .

My words are the boundaries
of communication,
the fragmentation of a message,
for we are unable to read the whole.

My house is the demolition
of a ****** space,
of a space unbuilt,
the containment of the wind,
the separation of light,
a splinter of a world.

Everything is happening
Causes cause effect to be cause,
endlessly.