Esse vazio…

É falta de mim mesmo.

Esse vazio,

É falta de outros em mim.

Silêncio de poucas/muitas palavras

que afasta por silenciar,

e silencia ao falar.

Fala distante,

Fala constante,

Fala que pouco esclarece

é mais ruidosa e confusa

que caminho livre a trilhar.

Ondas, ondas, ondas

quais as vias e quais os rumos

que vocês levam essa voz;

voz sem ouvido,

voz sem espaço,

Qual o poder de uma voz

detrás de uma cortina,

de um ator feito de contrarregra

que busca de novo o holofote?


A chronicle of ten steps in time.

I wish I could say this steadily, however I still have doubts.

I doubt whether or not I’m able to sort my way through all these scars.

Laid down by time,

across mind and body.

Leaving me to a fait penser,

Of lone, lone action.

Hence, to a coming back of appreciation.

For allowing to be touched,

And to touching.

May wolves no more be conditioned to be alone against their will.

And with this, so may I.

I recall all those strives,

I recall all those moments.

I will not be consumed by them,

no more.

But more.

And more.

Much more me

A lot more than I

There were you.


A null game.

Numbness that pulls you sideways,

Postive and negative,

All at the same time.

Acting as if we were modulo,

but neither caves,

neither results.

Both make possible,

a way to represent

just how about how much

this zero sum game is doing

with me, with us.

perhaps there will be no stalemate.

perhaps will be no status quo.

perhaps we’ll be the result of actions and reactions to insanely unique and also dim people.

cognition won’t do,

heart must take over

I must take over

you must take over

we must take over

and life, remains incognito.

I’ve noticed a change in quality.

Some feeling that resembles a tide change, however more subtle. I believe it would be a half step towards one.

This change in quality showed up last night with a move in spiral, a move that landed upon me via observing a somewhat boring landscape.

Looking at these people, they exchange and relate closely to each other, however, is it always a mutual exchange?

Looking at this, made me think whether or not people realize how much those few words they’ve shared,

Clear or clot up their evening.


Neste ciclo de reminiscências…

O que nos empurra adiante?

Doravante, lembremos de tudo o que nos propiciou felicidades

Adelante, recuperemos vontades que de pouco abaixaram sua flamula

Mais em frente, salvaguarde seus momentos e pensamentos mais significativos

Para que de modo andante



As vezes repentante

Mas nunca estante,


ou hesitante

de caminhar sempre.

Caminhar pra longe

ou para perto.

Caminhar pra frente é para qualquer lado,

desde que o lado consiga com seus passos

mostrar a luz do novo,

em contraste com o agora.


Ever fleeting

Mostly dismissing

Concurring thoughts

That mingle and dangle

at the mindset of being.

And yet,

Oh but yet.

Yet have I got to see

Such lightness of being


or treading such ways.

This was a path to tread alone

And yet, how come it never came to?

In transit. 


In transition 


Change is a never ending format

I’ve changed to the point I’m delusional about who I am. 

I can’t keep track of me inside me. 

And I can’t keep track of others inside me. 

Is that what it means to become so independent? To the point individuality stands for itself and nothing else? 

I fear I’ve become clueless in how to deal with people. As much as I’ve become clueless in dealing with myself. 

I just need somebody.