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De frente para o espelho pergunto para aquela pessoa "qual é a sua função neste mundo?"
Me pergunto para ela se meus supostos fins justificariam seus possíveis meios,
Ou se julgando arbitrariamente em nome do fim do julgamento arbitrário, robespiescamente, me tornarei uma
coisa vazia ambulante.
Coisa. Vazia.

Diabo da Tasmânia

Tudo é preto. Tudo é negro.

Tudo é instinto, acima de qualquer aspecto da razão.
Não existe raciocínio, nem medo.

Em caso de fome ou afronta - presas, sangue ferve, adrenalina, mandíbula, sangue corre das presas, nas presas.

Irracionalidade.
Ausência de sentido.
Insanidade /

[loucura]

Sangue.

The feeling of integration with the earth and the stars

Darkness. Stars.

CO2 to oxigen, slips of sense.
The bright green tree almost died, but from my mourning I happily collected that they failed on their assault.

Notwithstanding the few leaves of rebirth that happened to fall again, I take delight from the sight of this demi-dead nature fast-motion static scene.

Not so pleasant, though, is to feel the life of her twin made os synapses.
As the blue leaves of alienation are apparently gone, the dry sticks of doubt are all that's left, and everytime some sense tries to come up from the roots, with or without the blue sedatives, it all ends up ruined by the "fear of illusion" toxine.

As all slips of sense end up metabolized, I just hope this inner tree will manage to survive the near death experience, hopefully better than her sister.

Morte.

Cena do crime.



Faz muita sujeira né? Joga veneno.

Oh my God, another poem about emptyness!

Arte e filosofia constantes e em grande quantidade me faz falta.

____________________________________


As my eyes would get my blood thicker,
I'd have that combustion in my chest again.
But that ain't possible at the moment...
I'm not allowed to feel anything right now

Tédio

É tudo uma coisa só
O asfalto, o céu, os prédios, o mendigo
Numa grande massa nojenta, a mistura de todas as cores com a ausência delas
Todos numa curta existência eterna, cheia de finalidades.
Até quando? Até quando...

Placebo Expectations

Way to go guys.
You couldn´t have done better.
We don´t need to try to define hypocrisy no more
And we don’t need to think there’s hope for change
When the ones who were leading the way
Suddenly turn and start going on the opposite direction
Very stimulating
To see you selling our dreams
And proving that you were wrong just from the beginning
Far away from here, I think I wouldn’t have ceded the temptation of the pen.
And although your actions suggest that anybody would have,
I can’t help hating you.