Uma citara, calor no ventre e dúvidas.

It’s been a while since I last wrote anything.

Tonight I come to you as a resort to my neverending anxiety.

I feel like something major will come to pass next week, and my god. It literally is making me restless right now.

So here I am.. reviewing my past selves to try and contain all this excitement.

While at the same time dealing with my feelings for this girl, who’s quite lovely but tricky at the same time.

I just can’t help but feel… restless.

I’m clueless as to what comes ahead, what I’m about to face and whether I’ll be able to face it or not.

Well, that’s life. I just can’t help but feel speechless at a moment like this.

Concentrate all heat within my chest,

And convert it to willpower.

Hope,

and loads and loads

of willpower.

“Ces ne sont pas me gestes que j’ecris, c’est moi, c’est mon essence.”

Montaigne

Fragmentos de tempo se misturam com fragmentos do meu ser.

As pós – imagens ficam borradas em contato com um relógio errático,

Ora ditado por um coração palpitante,

ora incomodado por um ego berrante,

E ticam.

Ticam. Ticam.

Ticam.

Que nem ponta de vacina,

ja deixou o corpo mas não sem fechar aquele cú com seu resquício de pontada.

E ao fim, se desmembra mais,

numa tentativa fútil o corpo tenta juntar.

Mas não consegue,

Pois o que o tempo separa,

so com o tempo se une.

Corpos, fragmentos,

olhares, toques e sensações.

So se convergem num aliar do tempo,

Tempo fragmentado,

Tempo aliado,

Tempo desvairado.

Você.

Pedro.

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