Nicholas was...

older than sin, and his beard could grow no whiter. He wanted to die.
The dwarfish natives of the Arctic caverns did not speak his language, but conversed in their own, twittering tongue, conducted incomprehensible rituals, when they were not actually working in the factories.
Once every year they forced him, sobbing and protesting, into Endless Night. During the journey he would stand near every child in the world, leave one of the dwarves' invisible gifts by its bedside. The children slept, frozen into time.
He envied Prometheus and Loki, Sisyphus and Judas. His punishment was harsher.
Ho.
Ho.
Ho.

I don't wanna, I don't wanna, I don't wanna, I don't wanna, I don't wanna in vain

I don't wanna wait in vain for your love

'Cause summer is here
I'm still waiting there
Winter is here
And I'm still waiting there

...like always, ha-ha.

Hands and ends.

the world has moved on.

has been moving on seria o termo exacto
e eu não quero que pare
aceleremos
corramos

nos distanciemos deste agora que me dá um incômodo na barriga

como se meus órgãos estivessem lutando judô

subamos
no raio de uma estrela subir até sumir.

she came in through the bathroom window;

Olhos nos olhos.

Eu conhecia aquele olhar. De tantas catedrais, de tantas igrejas, de tantos museus, ele estava lá. O olhar. No rosto dos santos, dos mártires, das madonnas. Nas estátuas. Sempre em estátuas. Aquele olhar estava nelas. Não em todas, mas em muitas.
Os olhos voltados para o que vem de cima, a expressão vazia, ma non troppo. Não se vê nessas estátuas a inexpressividade, mas a conjunção com o divino, ou o sofrimento pedindo socorro, ou o cansaço terreno no ato de suspirar. A mescla de tantos olhares em uma expressão quase vazia, tão comum às esculturas, às estátuas, à pedra.
Mas desta vez o olhar não vinha da pedra, nem do gesso, nem de algo inanimado. Os olhos exaustos transpassavam o chão-teto do apartamento, olhavam mais para cima, para mais além, mais além. Era aquele olhar vindo de olhos umidecidos de dor e vasos estourados, que sustentava ao redor de si a pele já pendente em rugas, as bolsas inchadas ao redor dos olhos. Respirava com dificuldade.
Era um olhar de estátua numa escultura de carne e osso. E arfava. E sofria.

Podia ser fácil escolher.

(Não) se afobe, (não)

Amores serão sempre amáveis
Futuros amantes, quiçá
Se amarão sem saber
Com o amor que eu um dia
Deixei pra você

Pedaço de Mim.

Oh, pedaço de mim
Oh, metade afastada de mim
Leva o teu olhar
Que a saudade é o pior tormento
É pior do que o esquecimento
É pior do que se entrevar

Oh, pedaço de mim
Oh, metade exilada de mim
Leva os teus sinais
Que a saudade dói como um barco
Que aos poucos descreve um arco
E evita atracar no cais

Oh, pedaço de mim
Oh, metade arrancada de mim
Leva o vulto teu
Que a saudade é o revés de um parto
A saudade é arrumar o quarto
Do filho que já morreu

Oh, pedaço de mim
Oh, metade amputada de mim
Leva o que há de ti
Que a saudade dói latejada
É assim como uma fisgada
No membro que já perdi

Oh, pedaço de mim
Oh, metade adorada de mim
Lava os olhos meus
Que a saudade é o pior castigo
E eu não quero levar comigo
A mortalha do amor
Adeus

In dictatorship's basements...

'Was there much pain?' it asked tediously. Why should only it make the question, though there were more than a dozen 'its' around him, waiting for the next one to cross the closed door of the chamber and listen to the same torture story? Inside the chamber the yells had stopped some minutes before, which made all of them gather together and wait for it to come out. And it came.
'Did I die?' it put to in response. It seemed awkward and confused with its new foggy body. 'Have I just crossed the door's wood?' it came closer and shrunk as a thunder voice commanded from the chamber 'Bring the next one!'.
'Yes' replied the first one '…and yes' it completed. 'We're something like a… ghost, I dare say. Why had they arrested you?'
'I had sheltered the leader of the socialist guerilla' it shrugged. 'Can we haunt them?'
'No'
'Ah, what a shame'
'They can't see us. And we can't touch things'
'Ah' it seemed disappointed.
'What did they do to you?' asked shyly another one that hadn't spoken yet.
'Oh…' it thought a little. 'I think they used everything on that chamber and also in the chamber number eight'
'Oh, that's bad'
'Indeed'
'Dictatorship sucks' said another one, smaller than the others.
'How old were you, my dear?' asked the newcomer.
'I was twelve years old'
'That young?'
'Yeah, they caught me too because my parents were communists'
They remained silent.
'Look, there's someone coming to be done for' pointed the spokesghost. 'Could one of you guys ask it this time? I'm sick of doing this'
'But you're our spokesman' said another 'or sposkesghost, spokesdead, whatever'
'We could choose other ghost to do it, instead of me' it replied, hopefully.
'Ok, I can do it, for now' said the newcomer.
They went silent again and inside the chamber the screams started once more.

'Wow, this one was fast' commented the little it when the yells stopped.
'Indeed. Newcomer, it'll be coming in a few moments' warned the ex-spokesghost.
A hazy silhouette came through the wooden door. 'Here we go' murmured the new spokesghost and said, loud and clear 'Was there much pain?'

Atropelávamos nuvens.

P. 2

A waitress steps behind him and touches his shoulder. She says 'Senhor, o toalete está interditado'. He looks at her, with a confused glance. To him, the girl've just said a flow of dragged consonants. 'I'm sorr...' he starts, but she pushes the door closed and shows him a sticked paper on the door's wood, which said: 'Toalete em desuso' and below, in a tinier letter 'Toilet out of use'. He looks puzzled, turns around and sits on his chair. He eats some other candies. Has the man gone there? Eddie's fake's dying for a fix, and he got acid before. He seems to consider asking the waitress whether his partner has entered the shop, but it wouldn't be sane. Were the man a illusion? The wine shop is almost empty, except by a couple of young parents with a very curious daughter. The parents hasn't noticed him (they're too focused on themselves), but the little one stares him with big and interested eyes.
He seems to mutter something like 'Ok, that wasn't real'. He drinks the unfinished glasses, stands up, pays the bill and goes out to the mist, to the rain, to the river. And, if he is lucky, to the hotel.

Porto.

There is a man sitting at the other table of the little wine shop. He seems much alike Eddie Dean; the awkward black hair, the pale skin, the hooked looking and a pair of eyes whose colour is difficult to distinguish. Green, amber, blue, grey... could be one, some of those or might all of them together, it wouldn't make him more or less odd. He has some half emptied glasses of Porto wine on the table, his candies are almost all gone. He looks through the dull window, waiting for another man who went to the bathroom. The mist coming from the river gives a gloomy appearance to the city. He probably needs a fix; the bags under his eyes seems to be weighting a ton and he patters the table with his long fingers.
Tick-tock, says the shop's clock. He apparently cannot keep on waiting. Dean's clone puts himself on his feet and walks to the bathroom door. There he knocks. And nothing.
He calls the man's name. And nothing.
He tries to open it. It wasn't locked, so the door opens quietly. He stares the toilet, the water gently moving a large piece of shit. The smell spreads through the shop.

Tu.

Carros passam a altas velocidades pela avenida, ouves somente um zumbido e sentes sua roupa esvoaçar a cada alucinado de quadro rodas. A luz da torre de telefonia está adiante, mas tu não estás interessado nela, te interessam as reentrâncias dos edifícios novos e vês teu vulto nos vidros espelhados. Chove. Teu cabelo molhou-se desde o momento em que saiu do metrô, mas tu não te preocupas. Andas sem grandes preocupações, sem grande espectativas, sem dinheiro, documento ou qualquer coisa que valha. Tu não existes, então não morres e enfim, não estás ali.

Composition #5

__'Come in' he said as he heard a knock on the door.
__A shy woman walked cautiously through the room, after closing the door. It was her second session, the doctor thought.
__'Good morning, doctor Hollow' she murmured.
__'Good morning, Miss Dunaway, please take a seat' he waited her to do it, and continued 'Today I'll ask you to talk about your childhood, is that ok?'
__She made an affirmative and her shoulder had a violent spasm. Oh God, he thought, this is sadly creepy.
__'Ok... when I was, like, seven years old we moved to a rural place. I had a twin, I've already told you, Susette, who was a few minutes younger than me. We used to play in the garden behind the house, specially hide-and-seek. My mom was always working until the late afternoon, so we had only our stepfather working at home, locked in his office. We used to feel very lonely, so we created imaginary friends. Kids always do that, I think... anyway, there were two: Louis and Jack. Louis was a little centaur and was very kind; Jack was a boy with wings on his heels, which made him much faster than us; he was audacious, stubborn and bad tempered sometimes... but we loved them.' She took a pause, breathing deeply.
__'Behind our garden there was a farm. In spring, that year, the wheat was very tall, much bigger than us. We used to race there, but Louis and Jack were very fast, we oftenly lost sight of them. One day, when the sun was high in the sky we made a bet: the last to arrive at home would eat the cat's food for lunch. As soon as we started Jack and Louis disappeared through the wheat. I got lost and just found the way home a long time after. Suse was not there and our stepfather was furious' She did the spasm once again.
__'He slapped me to make me explain what happened. I told him everything about Louis, Jack and the bet. He got crazy and we went to look for her. Suse was nowhere. We contacted the farmer, the police and all... but she was never found.' She went silent and started to weep.
__After a while, Miss Dunaway completed, sobbing 'our family was never the same after that.'