Numbness is somethin’ I’ve really been running away for quite some time… I’ve been running as fast as I run away from this much of awareness that slowly damages me inside like sharp blades on my wrists. Most suffer because they fear the unknown even not knowing they are not aware of reality… I suffer because I feel trapped in it. When I ask myself why, I’m sucked into emptiness. Since I remember being alive, I always felt that my mind had some twisted away of seeing trough things. And it hurts so much not being ignorant even when I should have been. When everybody deservs to be. I know most think the bigger ignorants are those who thing they are not a ignorant. But when you know in such detail what’s going around you and still go for it, no matter what… You feel attracted to chaos…
Madness was my escape to hide myself from the sense of reality. Today, I’m made of scars, one undred facets and faith. My past made my scars, my facets are my present and faith… faith is my last bullet, it’s what I call future. The hope of healing, believing and live. Live like a ignorant, as I always should I’ve been.
Na Minha Janela.
Antwerp, 12/11/2018
Houvesse um génio da lâmpada
Que me oferecesse um desejo
Trocava a paz na Terra
Por aquilo que almejo,
Esquecia o mundo em guerra
Crianças com frio e fome
O fogo a queimar a serra
As casas que ele consome,
Esquecia os refugiados
Sem-abrigo e vagabundos
Os bêbados e drogados
Doentes e moribundos,
Esquecia os despejados
Os surdos e invisuais
Os filhos abandonados
E os separados dos pais,
Esquecia os atentados
De aficionados e radicais
Os hospitais lotados
Os erros gramaticais,
As lojas a abrir falência
Os donos endividados
As vítimas de violência
Desses casamentos falhados.
Houvesse um génio da lâmpada
Que me oferecesse um desejo
Trocava o Paraíso
Por aquilo que almejo
Não queria potes de ouro
Bolsos cheios de notas
Uma vista pró Douro
Duas ilhas remotas,
Nem um corpo de sonho
Vários pares de botas
Um futuro risonho
Batalhas sem derrotas,
Nem canções do Caetano
Nem folgas, nem festas
Mais viagens ao ano
Mais tempo para sestas,
Nem casa com horta
Piscina e jardim
Trepadeira na porta
Com flor de jasmim,
Perdoe-me o mundo
Mas não perdia um segundo
Ao génio da lâmpada, dizia assim:
Vês aquele fulano?
Por poesia ou engano
Fá-lo gostar de mim.
I had a long time to consider the value of memory, and the idea that just because something doesn’t last forever doesn’t mean its worth is diminished. Maybe it was just a rationalization - easier on the soul than mourning what might have been - the life unlived. I honestly don’t know, but I chose to believe in memory. I chose to believe in her. I chose to believe that the bond was never broken and that we carried each other in our hearts. As a secret singularity.
Tão simples. Tão bonito.
(via a-peace-of-mind)
