sábado, 20 de agosto de 2016


Começa assim,
com as minhas mil mortes e mais uma
entre chocolates e cravos caídos,
o fim de outro mundo perdido em tantos
sem tempo para prantos nem lembranças.

Mas no momento de apertar a tua mão pálida
a tremer gemidos de ressurreição
quis a razão ou a esperança
que eu fosse engolida sem perdão
e fizesse das minhas mágoas prazeres.

Passeio o cadáver pela cidade,
agora necrópole crepitante
descarnando a cada passo
a agonia balbuciante
da saudade do teu abraço.
Levo ainda no regaço aconchegado
o cheiro a cabelo suado
que me deixaste nos lençóis
e os teus olhos feitos faróis
fixos na catarse do reencontro
humedecidos pelo luto iminente.

E afogo
nas águas escuras da ambivalência
a minha preferência pelo desvario
e a inevitabilidade da revolução
com o sufoco na garganta
de quem não canta por embaraço
e se enrola vezes sem fim
nas ondas frias da dormência e do cansaço
espumando a minha perpétua insatisfação.

sábado, 28 de maio de 2016

Untitled (Denmark)

Opening: “tyranny leaves the body free and directs its attack at the soul. The ruler no longer says: You must think as I do or die. He says: You are free not to think as I do; your life, your property, everything shall remain yours, but from this day on you are a stranger among us.” Alexis de Tocqueville

There used to be a time
When I was naïve as to believe
That words and rhymes
And glasses of over-priced wine
Could make me one of you.
But the failure at integration
Ruined the delicacy of that moment
And as my frustration rose to the ceiling
So did my appetite for destruction.

So tell me
Can your mouth also taste the blood of innocents
when you do us the diligence of waving your flag in our faces
and present us endless mazes mystifying your mundane?
Can you also feel our desperate pain
When you strip us to the bone
And turn us into naked canvas for your twisted little games?

You should be proud, you did the system good
And the loud ghosts of what we used to be,
Ripped from our bodies like our childhood
with gentle melodies about losses and gains unkept,
Will never again attempt happiness beyond contempt.

And you continue to charm us all
With your timeless pretty pieces
about loves you used to have
asking the same metaphysical questions
and begging for redemption with overused vane lines
in a masturbatory circus
spreading meaningless fungus like toxic lice,
jumping from head to head
not thinking twice about the self-indulging pettiness
of your ill-fitted disguise.
But vanilla candles cannot hide
the sick smell of soulless poems
like inorganic rancid corpses
decomposing under the sun of your lovely Danish porches.

When you instruct me in your wisdom,
and seduce me with your boredom
Go beyond the rain and the spring flowers
and tell me more about the hours
spent by overdosing clones
riding gaily in monochrome.
Tell me about your synthetic happiness of pills and booze
or how you think we are all over-sensitive crooks;
How my love is OCD and my passion is anxiety
and how there’s no space in your society
for anything but your fake smiles and sarcasm.

But I will scream and I will spasm

Until I am a person again.