bittersweet déjà vu

I'm six, five, four, the sun shining oh-so-bright on our golden skin and Caetano Veloso is singing on the speakers about the treasures of our tropical land, while we create memories that will last forever, or at least until the Alzheimer gets to us.

Remember when love was something to die for? Cupid was firing poisoned arrows by then, and boy, did they stung. We had everything planned like typical teenagers with delusions of adulthood always do, vowing never to change, and we were still better than the normal adult after all. Still better than the adult us.


(I forgive you for delaying the end of the world, God, but it would have been nice to give us the eutanasia button I asked, wouldn't it? I was looking forward to testing it myself.)

barely human, mostly animal

Embrace your darkness,
let it guide you through the night,
it'll save you and lose you,
for it is the inner you,
living.

Embrace your bestiality,
bite and bruise and mark,
it'll show you the reason
why you act reasonable
at all.

Embrace your instincts,
and open yourself
to the big nothing
that is the future,
that is our lives,
and it's fine.

drag your teeth across my skin, rip me, feast me

Show me your teeth.
   I'll make you cry to quench my thrist,
                      'cause I'm spitting feathers
                                 from the phoenix I ate,
        and his fire is running down my throat,
  ashes pooling in my stomach acid.

Show me your teeth again.
  Let me twist your words
       to have you untwist them,
           for word play is my foreplay
       in this treacherous game
  where our bonds we forsake.


Show me your teeth once more.
    This time will do it differently,
       maybe in reverse, or the other way around
                anyway you want, don't want, demand,
      wasting possibilities, endlessly spinning,
  until it goes back to the way it was.


I feel you hiding a smirk against my skin,
let the war begin, let us show our teeth.

no place to hide, the walls have ears and eyes

You wake up one morning and something is off,
so you go see him,
and he sees you,
the girl on her knees blowing him sees you,
and you feel like running away from those eyes,
so you do.

That's why. I know it's not actually a reason.
It was the trigger.

It's why you ran home. You ran, you ran, you ran,
and somewhere between it began to rain,
there were people yelling so much it became a brainstorm,
there was a jungle of glass and metal,
there was a desert you could easily cross
as it was man-made (and what is not?).

You ran home.
But there's no home anymore!
There are eyes staring at you with pity.
There are consolation prizes,
effortless and useless and
everything less.
There is less,
less than nothing,
which is way worse than nothing.
At least nothing gives you a fresh start.

Once again, you find yourself running away from pervasive eyes.

clinical depression is not a tumor, but it'll make you wish it was

The bed smells as if someone's been in there too long.
Someone means you.
Oi, get out of my dreams!
I hate your stupid fake pretencious british accent.
Fuck, you're always spoiling my few good hours of sleep.
No, I'm not. You are. I'm here because you let me in.
I'm not exactly proud of that.
There's really nothing to be proud of. You tell people all your secrets,
even the ones you invent to make your life look interesting.
I tell other people's secrets too.
Yes, I was going to mention that. You talk too much.
Well, that's of no use with you, is it? You never hear.
You wouldn't know, would you? You never let anyone else speak.
...
...
You know what? I'm done playing this game with you. 
Let me sleep my fucking hours.
...
'Cause you're always fucking accusing me and I'm so tired of you.
...
You don't even know my reasons. You don't even know me, but act like you do.
...
I hate myself. I'm so lonely. I want to die.
There's no reason to keep on living, and worse,
there never was.
...
I wish I knew how to end all this.
I wish I had the courage.
I'm glad you don't.