Category Archives: delírio

eyes wide shut, heart wide open

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I rushed towards you in the middle of the night, just to feel that tigh hug of yours, you pulling me back again every time I crawled away from you. We got married silently while crossing the sea. Honeymoon on an island. You, a trip that filled my lungs with air, made my heart pump blood a little faster, a little warmer. We being ourselves with our books and quiet moments until undress time. I, M. take thee, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day foward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, , in sickness and in health, to love, cherish and (not) to obey till death do us part.

Amen.


Ahhhhh…

Me deito à noite. Eu não consigo dormir. Aquele cheiro, aquele cheiro, aquele cheiro. O perfume dela na minha cama, o sexo permeando o quarto inteiro. O gosto dela na minha boca. Gosto que, em anos, nunca senti. Só que eu queria tudo para mim, eu beberia galões dela. de todos os seus líquidos e suores. Eu não consigo dormir. Me reviro na cama em lembranças revividas que apenas melhoraram, se somam. E agora, agora é leve. É como sempre deveria continuar tendo sido.

Lembrando que, dessa vez, não há verbo ser aí. Estamos. Estamos fazendo. Estamos falando. Talvez, estejamos planejando. Porque o cheiro, ele continua forte. Porque a vontade, ela não passa. Porque as lembranças, elas não se apagam.

E o corpo é carne que sofre, pedindo o fim do suplício: sacia o meu desejo.


P for passionate me

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I thought she was amazing, I remember well the first time I saw her. She was wearing long sleeves, even though it was hot. And she was also wearing a lit bit of black make up, which gave her kind of an androginous look. After she walked in, I could see no one else. She was beautiful. Tall, with a figure that I liked it and a face full of personality. Also, she had the same trait that me.

We got together that night. It was amazing. Amazing like hell amazing. Her fingers inside of me made me forget my name, where I was, she did it in a such different way that I have never experienced. As the days went by  the more I time spent time with her if I could.  I would found myself more and more head over heels for her. She was different. She did different things, she liked different things but we had things in common enough to connect us.

Although I was totally in love, I always knew she was not the one. But I would like to spend a few months, maybe a few years by her side. Learning, sharing experience, knowledge. She hurted me once. Out of the blue. I wasn´t even expecting it.

Few months later, she came to me again. Another shot. Ok, I really like you. Let me see how it goes. Chat everyday, darling, sweeatheart. Liebe nevermore. Liebe was a thing of the other. More conversations, plans, let´s see each other, I want to be at your house. Please, please come. Please, stay.

I got scared. She was strange. I felt a kind of a disconnection. I had a feeling that she wanted to get out as quickly as possible from my bed. I phoned her, feeling very sad  and she said she couldn´t handle this. She couldn´t handle me. But I could. I could hear her moanings all day and night. And  since I panicked and since she wasn´t able to deal with my sorrows, another separation.

And then a call. Full of tears, full of promises, full of “do as you are, whatever you like” . But I found out that I´m not liked the way that I am and I don´t know why me, then. And why do I have to hurt me for a friendship that I have never wanted and made it clear from the beggining? Why do I keep punishing me like that?

So it´s time for you to go. Starvation have to work. “Im much too heavy for you“. Have you heard that? I don´t know if you have anything to say that will save this, whatever this is, friendship or I don´t know, nor if you want to, I don´t really know  if you like me as you say or if I am important at all to you.I don´t know if you have to say anything  that will end my non stopping tears. But I´m weak and tired. I have lost a whole bunch of water. I don´t deserve this and neither do you.

So I´m loosing your fingers, one by one now. And hopefuly someday you will see that was not to force yourself into a feeling that was smothering you. It was just you lying to yourself.


The damnation

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They were heartless and I supposed them shapeless, just for a moment, before I realize it was not a dream. There it was, the heartless girls, surrounding her. Giggling, pushing, passing her from hand to hand and at the minute she started to be used to the heat of one of the girls, she was taked away, pushed violently towards another girl who did not desired her. None of them did. They only wanted her for their own specific motives. Could it be because she looked “likeable”, because she was intelligent, because she was so passionate and fragile. But this girls, what they did, each one of them was carelessly rupturing her heart in a way it could not be glued back. Her tears passed through her teared heart but didn´t heal it. She was doomed to this life and never to be fully loved. Or happy.


eles

E depois de cada silêncio – um quase já esperar – algumas montanhas de livros a acrescentar porque as capas, elas são resistentes às lágrimas. Por que encaixam, postos um a um envolta de um corpo. O meu corpo. Sem pessoas, lençóis ou bichos. Os livros me fazendo companhia em pilhas, palavras, pensamentos, lágrimas e, por que não? risos.


Insustentável leveza

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Acordei sufocada pelos seus braços e respiração. Gotas de suor que não eram minhas desciam pelas minhas costas e o cheiro de união enchia o quarto iluminado de violeta. Todas as moléculas aqui presentes estão cheias do seu amor por mim, um querer asfixiante que faz com que todos os meus movimentos sejam tão ensaiados quanto o pisar em uma corda bamba. Limpo esses fluidos que não são meus, querendo desentranhar a nossa sujeira de mim. Durante todas as horas do dia, sinto o incômodo do laço que você supõe irrompível. Chego em casa cansada de ser casal. Abro a porta e suspiro: oi, querida.


De si

Achou que seria fácil. Rápido, como das outras vezes. Alguns dias de prostração e estaria bem. Ou, talvez, quem sabe nenhum já que, andou tão ocupada, mesmo lá dentro, fazendo tantas coisas. Sair dali. Perguntando às pessoas os por quês. Sair dali. Para, no fim, ter que voltar toda semana. Reconhecer rostos. Responder: não, sim. Não muito, a mesma coisa. Não. Ainda não consegui. Não arrumei meu quarto. Eu. Sair dali.

Dessa vez, reconhece, está sendo lento, bem lento. Doloroso. Estranho. Como se, a todo momento, não tivesse, não caísse em si, finalmente, de que a vida real existe e o dinheiro acaba. De que as contas chegam, ainda as lágrimas a continuar. Sim. Sim.  Sair daqui.

De si.


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