Vaguear

Os cinzeiros estão cheios, o chão à espera de ser varrido pelo empregado sonolento, de honesta má disposição que apenas quer fechar o estabelecimento. As cervejas fazem linhas que se entrecruzam nas mesas, todas iguais, simbolizando um tipo qualquer de ocupação do tempo ou de elevação artificial do espírito para as massas.

Pela rua, sigo as pedras de calçadas, conto-as e reparo num passar do tempo diferente, num tempo que me absorve a consciência, a vaguidão da vida. As passas do cigarro marcam o ritmo, o brilho laranja de cada travo a luz do caminho; o fumo, como migalhas de Hansel e Gretel - sigam a vida citadina e cheia de modas.

Rangem as solas das all-star que ninguém vê no escuro, à medida que palmilham um caminho falsamente certo, mas que não leva a lado nenhum. Tudo é passeio, tudo é fogo de artifício que ilude os meus olhos vermelhos de ser ébrio, as minhas pestanas coladas de quem chorou as certezas que julgou ter na monotonia de um ciclo.

Sente-se na noite o ar vago, a luz difusa, a rua deserta. Assim que estou sozinho, é assim que me sinto: pele e roupa, frágil, engolida pela mesma esfera de sempre, que mete medo, que mete desespero. Acende-se mais um cigarro até ao conforto de um lar que não me espera mais a mim do que a qualquer homem perdido, animalesco, moribundo.

Cup of coffee

A cup of coffee won't solve, for my problem isn't the tired eye or the head that pulses like the drums of the songs passing by. No. A mess like this isn't solved with a simple, ordinary coffee. Coffee is an excuse for extra determination, an illusional pause. Just like a cigarette or a walk or a chocolate cookie. A placebo effect. The wind outside comes into my mind and becomes far more important than the thoughts I was having before. It got control, it took over the situation, it made me get lost. More lost. Again. And again, and again. No GPS would help, because I know which routes I can use, I know exactly where I am. It doesn't drive for me, it won't do the unstuck. And minutes tickle, cry where they used to sing. It's a great cliché to say that the same thing can be devastatingly beautiful or horrid ugliness depending on its intensity. And still, that's why I can hate me. I can hate us. I can hate you. A caress, a word, is like an input: it needs processing. It needs loading. It will begin a war, a war which devastation isn't seen but felt. No wrecked building. No crying people. I don't cry. I barely complain. That's why I hate me. That's why I hate people. I hate me because people hate me and they hate me because I don't look alike. I don't fit. I don't match. I have to hear and I won't react. It's easier to make sense with small sentences. The words won't lose grip, the fingers jump from key to key as if they already had this speech in mind. Obviously, it isn't a speech. I can't speak. That's what people say, that's what people think. I'm the guilty, I am the crippled. I'm am the one who has to listen but won't ever feel like anyone listens to him. Well, being a bit unfair now. It seems I have my concentration back. Solved it isn't, but it wasn't meant to be. Flaws are everywhere and if I was the only one the world would be perfect. And it is. There comes the wind again...hope it doesn't vanish. This stream, cascade, huge word-puking, of words that are barely analized.

For good

"And I...would never hate you...but you're hard to love". And when I mean love, I meant friendship. You want it all for you and you can't accept that people are changing and making new connections. You can't accept that now I won't be the grammar nazi that is going backwards to see if he mispelled something. I won't go back to see what failed, because nothing failed. This was a natural process - people, like the seasons, come and go. You're a rotten apple, waiting for the tree to pick you up again. Rotten inside, because you thought I didn't care anymore. It's just that, like a tree, I'm too stiff, too inflexible (fuck collocations). I can't go and talk to you, because I didn't do anything wrong. I'm a better person, but still I can't talk. I will grow other apples, you'll be consumed by the dust and the wind and I'll just watch silently and sad. If you'd just think twice...you'd see I was always there. I never treat you wrong. I tried, but I couldn't reach your point. Even I am nonsense. You shouldn't try to explain things with lies. Goodbye.