per feição.

dizem que a perfeição não existe,
em vez de corroborar, talvez hesite,
talvez corresponda meramente a instantes,
e, neste caso, foram tantos,
dando azo a sonhos a mais,
e a tantos outros ais,
fiquei dentro de um museu teu, mesmo depois de fecharem as portas,
e revejo e revisito todas as obras, retratando agora naturezas mortas,
e mesmo despojado de trunfos, fecho-me em copas,
à procura de ouros e tesouros sem vento nas popas.

(que sorriso, foda-se.
ou como a felicidade nos atinge numa sexta-feira de Agosto
como um raio de sol irrepetível
18/08/2017 - 16:12)

i have feelings two.

last lap.

that was our last lap,
you ran out of fuel for me.
i'm the point in the middle of nowhere on the map,
surrounded by all the debris.

a poem for Leonard.

This is not a walk in the park,
This is a walk in the dark,
This is the story of a guy roaming random streets
With his soul torned to bits

And of course he sees the sights
But he also cries the sighs
If you see him walking by, say hi
Everything is so out of range
He'll accept some care even if your face is strange

At the dead end of each street
He faces her face,
Regardless of his walking pace
And his tears come easy,
Like for every man in need of care
As everyone labeled spare, and he's tired

He doesn't know the boardwalks,
Not even the direction,
Just like he doesn't know anymore what is affection

I wrote this imagining Cohen's metric
Because it's so poetic,
I hope I don't look pathetic
But I have so much inside I can't neglect it.

08/11/2019