quarta-feira, 1 de abril de 2015
4 a.m.
4:00 am.
Walk into a bar, a desperate need for that 'ol Tennessee spirit on the rocks.
While waiting lazily light up a cigarette and try to pull some happiness from it, but blinded to anything else in the world. The whiskey arrives and with it a try to purge all the sadness that insists to occupy the stomach.
But look through everything. Through the entire earth; empty and solid spaces have no importance. Just this (also empty) gaze. That emptiness that can be felt. From the fingertips to the back of the head.
Don't know what else to do. Standing on this corner, seeing nothing, understanding much less. Strolling through the same damn path every week. Always the same routine, same places, same emptiness.
Just lay here forever. Or for the next minute or so.
4:01 am.
É quase como se fosse
Apenas Mais Um Dia,
Dia Ruim,
Exercício,
Início,
Mais um fluxo de pensamentos loucos e sem ordem....,
Pseudo-Poesia
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