Under Construction...

Waiting for the Change that may let you be comfortable around me.
I write my feeling in lose drawings Hoping they can speak to you about all that I'm still to discover.
Like the lost line of a cheap movie I dream in silence hoping you can see it screened in my forehead how much you make me want to be better. Even though that concept is so overrated and abstract...
I try to find in me any feeling that would be for something outside, but all I wish is to transform something in me. And that notion only makes me want to run away. I want to be ignored by you and all the songs that seems written for my being...
Now all those men whose walk gave me butterflies all over my heart are all invisible and mute. The word desire is only letters in an old flyer about sexy girls selling worthless pleasure.
I chose the Bounce back see-through wall I built around me. It bounces all the energy back and I feel full again. So full that I have to consciously open holes in my fingertips so it can flow away somewhere. It is love. A word. A drop of a nectar so concentrated yet light. A nectar that contaminates all around killing whatever is not open to it.
Blah, the blahs keep forcing themselves into my consumed brain that has no place to anything else anymore. My heart took it over and has all the weapons necessary to turn it all into insanity. A brain full of heart is the most dangerous tool to destroy a myth...
And I bubble throughout the city, bumping into the unseen and drained walking heads, and I look somewhere to touch and feel something similar to what I carry with me and too many times I end up kissing my shoulder. You didn't have the right to be so kind and honest! You didn't have the right to be open and secure as if all was right! You mean, insensitive, indifferent worm!...
And it all bounces back at me, throwing my arrogance to the floor and letting me dizzy wondering what to do next as a kid in time out sobbing in their room not knowing what they are suppose to learn.
I know is all here. Just don't know what yet.
I know the end of the story, it just never ceases to be, there's always a next page. We can turn it over and over again, but we won't be able to read it. It's like every new page has a new language and we will only understand and learn it once that page is all over. We can only read the past.
Blah, blahs. "Be as you are!"

3:33 pm

Some love fight context
Mine fight the stars
I think of you and my brain freezes
I long for you as my body tries to scape
I love for you hoping it will be enough for both
I embrace our story as destiny without miracles
I continue seeking paradoxes that were long ago solved
I keep your intense wanting as a proof of your care for me
I ay inside not realizing the sounds won't get quieter as time goes by
Your skin dresses all I ever wanted
But fear stands in our way as bubbles distracting young eyes
When there are distance the floor shakes under me
When distance shortens everything stops, acknowledging your presence
All gets so tight that the I love you I keep for you gets stuck between our gaze
And in the rush to make all right, we lose the present, forcing our souls to look out in other directions
It wasn't my back you saw running away again
I was just giving you distance to savor my love

Such a pity, it is so tasteless now...

FAN

You have a fan you know?
You could have a fan and a fan to fan you
You only have a fan that fans you
And when the summer is over, you will have a fan that won't fan you

Unless your have a bad fan
You could have a fan that would turn off your bad fan when you're cold when the summer is over
A fan to applaud you when you do something great
A fan to blow your mind
To turn your breath up side down
A fan to laugh at your ways
To cool you down when you breakdown
Now you have a fan and a fan
And the fan that fans you right now is too boring
It does the same movement over and over again

You could have a fan to break your patterns

To mess up with your same manners

To follow your basic colors

A fan to warm you up

To put you on your knees

To play as it pleases

A fan to spin you around

To reject any bound

A fan to leave you behind

To be mean and kind

To be trouble and winy

A fan all over the place

Aff!

A FAN
FANtasy
FANta

FANciful
FANcy

FANdom

FANtom
FANatic

FAN
I am
I fan you!

COMBO 2 or TEARS MAKE EVERYTHING TASTE BETTER

1- Third Floor or Torta

No 3° andar eu fui toda errada. Eu te procurei. Eu quiz que você me
Quizesse torta...
Um beijo
Te
Amo
Nao
Ai
Ai
Ai
Te
Decorei
Te

A
O
Mo
I
Mean
Amo
I
Go
He
Hi
Ho
Pe
Ho
Pe
Ho
Pe
Hope
Ho
Pe

2- US

Yeah!
I was there
Nothing to say...
Waiting on a fucking dirty street for that little moment of poetry
Drunk empty..: us ...

WCT (Please)

Today when I saw my "first star" I closed my eyes

And I wished very hard that you would be closer again

It put a smile on my face

When I look up the star was moving!

It was an airplane

A tear dropped out of fear

The smile went away...

A week ago I saw a flower wrapped in a plastic bag

That seemed suffocating, kind of bad…

I wondered for a bit if the flower was a little sad...

Yesterday I ate a candy that tasted like sauna

My brain became hot and sweaty

I hoped it was not glaucoma

About 10 days ago I got a new skirt

It is short and certainly elegant

I bet it will make it easy to flirt

24 days have passed since I made a mistake

It was the smallest one

It was the one that I so wish I could dismake

Half-hour ago I drank soda out of a can

I imagined the burp before it came

I know I could fry it all on a pan

I don’t remember when I found a book on the street

I wrote a poem on its first page

I question if the book is now more complete

2 days ago I got so lost I disappeared

I took a ride and found a clue

I try now to glue it back and it’s goodly weird

This afternoon I wrote nonsense

I strongly tried to keep myself strong

And through empty sense make you a past tense

Late afternoon I made nonsense even bigger

I dada the getting rid of all together

I still hope the mess becomes colorful

Since that last kiss I saw flying in the air

I robbed stickers and stick them around

I still consider reading Baudelaire

Tomorrow have all my rhymes and good words

I put my entire wish between the lines

Hoping it can catch your eyes

Now I realize that the fear I mentioned before

Is that that airplane can lose my wish somewhere on it's way...

Ops, a lapse on the narrative and I am back to the beginning again

Today when I saw my first star…

I wish you here again.

some times some more times or An Attempt do Dare

And they keep asking me, the voices in my head: why do I like you?...

I keep answering: it's his voice, his voice is so strong and specific...

His voice is calm and explanatory, you know?

And even the "you know" I say is yours.

It is a copy of yours, cause I used to like the way you used to say "you know", you know?

See, I keep repeating it, as if it is bringing you closer.

But right after I say it, you're not there, and instead I get tears as a replacement of your voice.

And all is fine, you know?

It is just little lapses of time during my day when I feel my face wet by surprise.

It happens randomly, anywhere, especially where it shouldn't, you know?
And the voices keep going, asking: do you like him only for his voice?

Well, I must say, I think that's reason enough!

But, no...

There are other reasons, like the way you explain things.

Every little story becomes so magic coming from your eyes.

It is all so special, like a kid looking at a toy, thinking that if he doesn't catch it right away, he may never catch it.

Kids are so right all the time.

How can you know if you will ever have an opportunity again? Any opportunity...?

That's how you explain things, like someone who knows that not having another chance is so real and inevitable, sooner or later.

Arbitrarily, a voice escapes from a hidden place somewhere, placing a thought like: but remember that he had something you didn't like...

And that voice tries to find an example of what that was, unsuccessfully...

So another voice jumps in saying: see, that is typical and cliche, you have this naive passion and cannot reason properly. How can someone have no defect?

I ponder for a bit...

The only thing I come up with is: I had fun even with your defects.

They seemed to be there to highlight your qualities.
"What qualities are there to deserve so much attention, so much liking?"

At first, all I can think is your smile.

Your smile lives in your eyes and hands.

It get spread with the sounds you make...

There's also the way you walk and the way you care about the ones lucky enough to cross your way.

And I could keep going on but the freaking voices are restless:

"Ok, so you know that... Is there more? Aren't you only fantasizing about him? Are you not just creating something you wanted to be real?"

I keep saying no!

Sometimes maybe...

But I know that I don't like you for anything you never showed me.

All my liking for you comes from something I experienced.

The voices never stop!

They insist!

As if I don't deserve to like you.

As if trying to keep me from falling, not realizing I already fell.

And tired of screaming, noticing I resist, they breathless say: then please dare!

(Pause)

Dare!

(Pause)

They win.

They win seeing myself hiding behind words and phrases I don't dare to say. You know?

You Know?

I know you made me more than what I was before and I learnt the pleasure of enjoying opposites, of not having to judge to like a person... or just to like.
But you were like my poetry, sometimes the end comes before the beginning...

And coming before, I cannot end it even when it is already done...
You know?
Can I tell you something?

Your qualities only make the other's look like defects...

Sometimes

You know

As Promised

Finding ways to define what you show only kept me busy in vain...
Bla bla blas, and empty words again.

Poor rhyme is all that was made out of our superficial complicity...

There is no more whys to save that bizarre simplicity...

And poor rhyme is all I can create from our lame musicality...

We were a mere copy of a boring pop song;

Those ones that move teenager's plastic glossy brains at dawn.

We moved in a instantaneous rhythm combined together,

And as any momentary ballad, the boom of the hit was burnt too soon...

As promised, beautifully mysterious verses were composed...

Maybe not the sound I wished to be played;

For they stretched their spaces too far apart for me to keep up all the way...

And that is how it went:

The tune was too high,

The melody extremely unbalanced,

The words came out as wrong as a hurt heart,

And as fast as a lost bullet,

The energy went off,

No power to pulse,

It was too dark to keep singing...

yet, we were my best composition...