Skin thief

Long bloody war shall we fight in the strong airs of the sea, the land of the adventurous, of the power, of the virility!

Shall I bomb your nasty lack of courage with my love for the lady, thus you'll be left in the loser's side. Shall I forget the honour you stole her, shall I forget the hatred for the mundane flesh, whose soul sometimes likes to caress others than the prisioner of her heart.

No, it's not jealousy, it's the will to fight the enemy and to earn the crown. Everybody settles for the master, for the strenght, for the wisdom, though shall it not be enough to contain the weakness of the skin.

Fera

Let the cold of the icelands take the kingdom of your heart and rip the mercy that runs through your veins.

Fear for no one, feel no guilt because you're just a worthy knight of the human race - a relentless hollow animal. The wounds are just to the flesh, your sacrifice only for power, glory, revenge!

Let no one win you, let no one live with unscathed honor after tearing down your will and your fate - to be the ruler of your desires, of your sin-soothing steps.

Maybe not. Maybe yes. I can't decide, ever.

How I wanted to be the pages of your diary, so I could inhale the smoky thoughts of your tough little mind. How I'd like to go from page to page and to go back again, to link all the ink and to know you to the bones.

No. I'd like to know no words. I don't want the bullshit, just the medicine to the pain, the arrow to the heart. Understanding, silly concept. It must be wrong.

How can I possibly want to find the under-sea treasures of your waters if I can't even sink in mine without drowning?

Mend it for me, paper. Mend it. I'll try once again. I may change the ink, I may move on some pages. I'll fail again, I'll smudge all the history like I always do. But please,mend it.

Future reflections

If I can't make a worm into a butterfly while my mind stretches itself along the inked fingers, if I can only describe what I see and all I see are worms...

...I'll just lie to the world and give myself two wings. I'll paint the skies that I see, the fear of the nature, the hiding in the tree trunks, the lonely float in the air which never seems to have a compass or a speedometer.

I won't be a worm anymore, a worm of the ground. I'll discover what nobody else does, feel and think of the world with my eyes so open that the truth will make me blind. I'll even lose my interest in the cycles of this sphere. I'll die soon, just like a mainstream pop song, but after the glory of entertaining people for some days with my fake beauty.

Fair enough. Finally got it.

I apologize.

"It's just a case of all the suffering..."

Aqui jaz uma alma, quebrada, machucada, enfurecida pela sua própria insegurança, pelo frio dos lençóis que apenas cobrem o corpo.

"On the wings of the night..."

Mal se consegue concentrar na sua própria dor ao imaginar a da sua metade, distante dos sentidos mas não da memória.

"On the turning away..."

Por muito que me ouças dizer que nunca me arrependo de nada, é mentira. Não posso trazer os calhaus que atirei contra o nosso amor de vidro de volta para a minha mão, não posso voltar a estender à tua mão o cobertor de afecto que antes nos envolvia no frio da solidão.

Sempre me disseram que ser orgulhoso era ser forte e ter carácter, mas apenas me congela mais no frio da noite. Orgulhosamente estúpido, orgulhosamente magoado pela mágoa que infligi a quem merecia apenas um beijo, o salvar da noite, das vidas.

Lamento que tenha de ser assim. Lamento. "There was a boy...". There was.