27 de Abril de 2007

You join your thought
of fire-ants on ice cubes,
having foam heart attacks
in that dark room
Where nothing carries your name...

You look at your wrinkled legs
that pulse without your knowledge
and prevent you from relaxing,
Stealing your happiness.

A discarted love.
A revealed secret.

And you're ignored by those worker ants
That silently relieve your pain,
Furfilling your selfish purpose

Your soul shatters
"You didn't love her!"
Your essence wrips
"I think I loved her"

Words don't touch you anymore.
You're the ultimate poet.
publicado por Arms às 19:20

I've noticed that my blog's being viewed by people worldwide. So if you're from:

France
United Kingdom
Sweden
Italy
Hong Kong
Finland
Canada
Bulgaria
Turkey
India
Brazil
United States
Singapore
Argentina
Malaysia

HELLO!
;-)
publicado por Arms às 14:22

Your dreams destroy you,
But you invite them in
As if they were common lies.
Half eaten meals
For a love that parches your soul.

You rage and roar.

The first rays of the morning sun
bursts through those curtains of problems.
It brings purity to the land
With it's lack of power,
breaching the untouchable horizon,
and leaves scars on your legs.

Something shatters behind you,
Wripping out your mind.

You're tired of looking out for us,
Living eventual lives
Of sticks and stones
That brake our bones.

Tired,
You're so tired of hour after hour
Of midnight thoughts
Like lies poured by termite bodies.

You're the ultimate poet.
publicado por Arms às 11:28

Did I remember to forget you?
Did I forget to remember you?
Did I forget when you left?
Did I leave when you forgot?

Never thought you were a dreamer.
Never dreamt you were a thinker.
You had me, you left me
Did I lose you first?

Or did I ever know you?
publicado por Arms às 11:22

My lips travel
the silkish valleys
of your sweat skin.

My fingers trace
the soft curves
of your elasticity

My ears follow
the cycling chorus
of your breath

I'm stuck
in the perfection
that's you.

What I wrote
wasn't
what you red.

- 2003
publicado por Arms às 11:17

Some people just become so boring!
Some realize that in time
Some don't
...
...
...
I'm still working on the process of actually becoming
as boring as a desert
...
...
...
Just kiddin
Deserts aren't boring anyway
Just really really hot
And sandy
...
With lot's of sand
I hate sand
Sand always gets everywhere
Literally
...
...
...
...
What was I saying?
Oh, yeah...
Some don't realize they can get really boring
Then there are others like me who are just stupid
But the good kind of stupid
Ok, silly!
...
...
...
...
Ah, forget it! I lost my point anyway...
(And pop goes the weasel!)
publicado por Arms às 10:39
mais sobre mim
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