"A poesia não é minha. É como o vento, que só passa através de mim." Chico Xavier

segunda-feira, 3 de dezembro de 2007

Fora de foco

estou aqui. i wait outside the door.
keep waiting on an angel, and the sound is unfinished so far away from me.
some words, little meanings, almost no noise, but a few light on it.

Colored dots.

no, i don't speak english neither write in these language. this is part of a dream.
you are dreaming of reading my blog. exactly now, i am dreaming about you too.

no coincidences, as Jung says, but paralel thoughts.

i still seeking the fortune i don't need to - you still dancing the musics i can not listen to.
i still playing i don't need you - you still singing Renato, the russian.
i still eating dark chocolate - you still performing as a clown.
i still mad at myself - you still mad at yourself.
i still stealing the smiles from my Self.
you still lying to yourself.

unfinished love.

"mentir pra si mesmo é sempre a pior mentira"

(Foto: Numa das ruas de Sampa)

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