Age of religion

Is there a colour on the horizon. Can I paint it gray? Is it a crime against humanity? You worship fake gods and then you come and criticise and judge other people thoughts or action. You're idiots. All fools that believe in something so you can feel better. You speak of salvation and life after death, you say that you can't and won't be material but even I am less material than you. You always seek to see the beautiful side of everything and now the world is pink and covered with flowers to you. I can't believe that there's something more powerful than me, that there's a salvation, that there's a Heaven or a Hell. I continue to say that nothing that you believe, worship and dedicate money and resources to exists. It's just a damn way to keep you hoping and dreaming of a better world than our without it even existing. You're fools.
There's a thought that comes to my mind when I think of what I used to believe: "Age of Innocence". I believed in all that was told to me, I didn't doubt it because I was too afraid to loose my way to Heaven. Just started thinking. I evolved, I wasn't created by some saviour, there's no one more powerful than me. I'm myself, equal to everyone else on Earth. Just a little bit smarter than the fools that believe in false gods or that war is the way to peace. It's the age of religion, when the fools think they rule the Earth.

My demon's smile

Woke up today, with you on my mind. Nothing else matters to me right now. Just the thought of you here with me, side by side, looking at each others eyes, telling each that we found the new and never-ending love of our life. but the truth is never easy and, in this case, it's difficult to be together but it's too damn hard to stop loving each other. I want to destroy the land that is between us, just so we can be together. Big is the distance between us but I feel that our love can touch each other. I can feel you in my heart, mind and soul. Can you feel me two?
Falling apart, down without love, just a soul with the destiny to die, you've found me, you've picked me up, you made this old soul be more alive than it was before. You've found me, you've cast a spell upon me with your beautiful smile. Now I'm yours and you're mine. Forever in each others heart, mind and souls. My demon I'll be alive for you. I will wait here for you, then take you in my arms, be forever with you, before the certain doom that shines upon our planet hits us, I'll try to save you, even if it means sacrificing myself. For you I will.
You're my thoughts, the one that tells me that it's secure to fall asleep to wake up again tomorrow. Just the thought of viewing your smile, gives me strength to get up in the morning. You've cleaned my mind of my sins, the unforgiven doom, it shines, it smiles, it's alive but won't hit us. What will be of us when everyone around us points the finger at us? We'll be stronger. We'll be together for we don't care about others words or ideas. We care about each other and that's all that we need. Forever alive to see my demon's smile. To see you.

Souls of Immortality - chapter two

You wake up in the middle of the night, while the stars still shine in the sky. The shine for you, they tell stories of your fathers, the battles they fought to survive and to leave you the legacy and the weigh upon your shoulders of continuing their story. You see a star moving, a movement that almost looks human. The mind surely plays tricks on you. You looks to the ground, leafs rising from the sand, healthy in the middle of nothing, a desert so big that can swallow every drop of water on Earth and still remain the same. But somehow you don't feel terrified with that thought. You kind of like it. You see a shadow moving far away, near the lights. You see your friends watching the outside of the field. You have a vision, tells you the future of your friends. And there's nothing you can do to change their fate.
You know you have to fight, you just don't know that you were born to live, to go insane and rule the world or just to remain in the shadows and spread you justice all over the world. With this on your mind, you go back to bed. You hope to dream with your love but instead you dream of vampires, demons and angels to control your fate. You wake up and you see the darkness around you. Somehow it comforts you. You feel in home, safe, as if the world could end now and you would be alive and well, but the thought of your love comes suddenly to your mind and the whole feeling of your home crushes down as if it was a bomb. You try to fall asleep but you notest the time so you get up and start doing your exercises. You run, trying hard to forget of the nightmares and the darkness. But the thought of your lover will never go away. It will hunt you forever, even after she's dead.
Another day in the field and your friends are growing more anxious. The have their guns in their hands but you despise yours. You've never liked it. Always preferred swords. but you got used to used that guns. What else where you going to do? You walk all the way in the field and stop at the a certain point. No reason. You just simply wanted to stop. You sit down and relax. You'll be alive for a long time, so why be alive while being up? Blasphemy. You get up an continue your march. You'll clean up the thoughts of all just to trade for the idea of blood. It will keep you alive. It will keep you yourself. You look to the sky and you see something painted grey. In the middle of the day? Unusual. Suddenly the bell rings... the War began...

Continues...

Nível de justiça - capítulo Um

Vejo no horizonte um levantamento de poeira, causado pela passagem dos cavalos dos cavaleiros do Inferno. A poeira dissipa-se e tudo o que resta na passagem dos cavalos é caos e morte, suicídios em massa e adorações a falsos deuses em troca de sobrevivência a este pesadelo. Pessoas nos seus joelhos a rezarem enquanto que os cavaleiros, nos seus cavalos, cortam-lhes as cabeças. O terror nos olhos das pequenas crianças enquanto que olham para os seus pais, conhecidos e amigos a serem mortos sem o mínimo remorso. Mas como dizem, remorso é para os mortos. Significará isso que os cavaleiros estão vivos? Afasto estas questões da cabeça e ponho-me a correr em direcção dos cavaleiros. Isto conduzirá a uma de duas coisas: morte e destruição dos cavaleiros ou uma perseguição interminável até aos confins do Inferno. Mas sigo em frente com o máximo de velocidade que consigo atingir.
Vejo a menos de 500 metros as armaduras dos cavaleiros a brilharem assim que o Sol lhes bate. Até podia ser um obstáculo no combate a que me aproximo mas com toda esta poeira será muito improvável que eles me consigam cegar. E mesmo que o consigam, consigo sempre usar a minha audição de forma a matá-los. Muito sinceramente eles não têm hipóteses mas espero que tentem de forma a que os mate agora e que não os tenha de perseguir mais tarde. Ainda não se aperceberam da minha aproximação, o que me dá uma vantagem. Posso ainda exterminar um ou dois sem que eles se apercebam. Mas primeiro paro para os contar. São 8, de fraca força, portanto pouco inteligentes. Peões, membros dispensáveis do exército do Imperador. Como refugiado nas montanhas, sou procurado pela falsa lei do Imperador mas o que faço realmente é trazer justiça aos sítios que passo. Esta é apenas mais um missão de reconhecimento do Imperador acerca do seu reino. Nunca pensaria que ele faria isto aos seus supostos súbditos.
Iniciarei este combate e depressa o acabarei. Esqueço-me dos espectadores, mortos ou vivos, e deixo a minha raiva dominar o meu corpo. Pouco demorou a minha transformação. Assim que ataquei, assim matei. Trespassei os corpos dos cavaleiros e continuo o meu caminho. Apenas deixo para trás a mágoa e as lembranças que deixei nas mentes cicatrizadas das crianças inocentes. Alguma criança dali me perseguirá.

Plus one

The wind walks in my life like a cutting blaze that has the only purpose to cut deep wounds in my soul, transfigurating my face and leaving scares in my body. I'm walking this street alone because I've choose to leave all humanity behind. A humanity so cruel and blind that makes me feel ashamed of being alive. Nothing I don't have is all that I want. And now I'm the only one who can change it. I'll try to move quickly into destiny but you're hands won't let go, won't let me run against that wall of bricks that is going to make things clear. I'll take a walk to breed the fresh air so it cleans my mind.
They're telling me that I have something moving inside of me called heart but I don't feel any love and I can't feel the pain when she bites. I can't be excused by the words I say or write, even if it hurts you. I don't want to be excused, I just want you to stop worrying about me and start worrying about yourself. I feel that I can help you. And I'm not falling in love again. There is no such thing as love. I have no emotions so how can I love? I only love myself and that's it.

Souls of Immortality - chapter one

Missed your life, missed your friends. You were pushed to war, caused by humans that won't even battle. You've lost your love, you killed your own heart. Long before you were alive, you were killed. Someone has drunk your blood and know you're dead. Somebody will pay for what they've done, your love will smile once again when you came back home to her arms. But still an epic battle awaits you and takes the energy and hopes of you, but the dream remains. Open your eyes, there's more to give than to take. And still you march, march against the scared and shaking bodies of the enemies. Living fear controls them and the one's aside you but that feeling was taken away from you long ago. You'll drink blood tonight, instead of the usual beer.
You're in the air along with a hundred men that cry for the wife's and sons back home, but still you're alone for you are the only one of your kind and you have to go to war. In the end, you'll be the only one standing up looking for friends or foes, but with blood in your mouth and many bullet holes in you clothes. No one to cheer for you but the souls of immortality. They were alive and well, the fought as well against the powers of nature, but they lost so now they're beside you in your own fight, they feed of your own desire to continue alive. But you've got to imagine how is your love back home for she may not miss you, but you miss her. Continued passage to the hole of hell where the bodies of the undead lay in the ground waiting for the souls lost in this combat. You'll take them there.
You lay on solid ground and look to each corner of your eye, spying what it may be your future. At night, you pray to fake gods to keep your soul after you're dead, what you don't know is that you'll never die. You have the annoying feeling that someone's watching you but you look behind and there's nothing there. In the darkness, you get lost in the never-ending thoughts of the beyond. You wish to see your lover but she's to far away from you. Now you consider yourself a dammed soul and curse against the one's that took you there. Soon you'll taste the bitter-sweet taste of victory, desiring what all immortals wish, the death of your body and soul. Nothing meant for you. A characteristic so human that almost makes you think that you're normal and that gives you hope.

Continues...

Cry for what it wasn't

I'm staring at a nothing in front of me. I'm looking to a mirror that reflects my image, something that isn't normal and likes the silence. I'm a caged animal that likes to stay still all the time, not sleeping, just thinking of his actions and fake feelings, something that makes me look inside and decide what I want now. The feelings haven't changed, that's why you're still here. As soon as they change, you'll turn your back like you always do and leave to far away thinking that I'll be good, that I'll be alright and I'll stay alive. I can lie, I can say one thing and mean another. You wouldn't know. You wouldn't care about me so that damn much if I wouldn't have told you what I felt. It isn't a beautiful day, it wasn't a great afternoon. I'm not feeling what you want to feel. I'm not in love. Yes, I hate myself for what I've done, but I hate myself a lot time ago, before I've met you.
I know what I've said and I still know how I felt when you were with me but now you're far and I'm alone, like I like to be. I can finally reflect well, think of what you said and I can give you an answer. Kill me if you must, I'll be happy. But there's something more to tell than our story. No one needs help if they don't think they need it, so why do you insist on coming back and going away? It doesn't hurt because I don't have what you call of emotions. I only have hate and rage that keep me awake and comfort me when I'm feeling dead. I hate her, but I'm asking you not to continue for then I'll hate you.
It's over before it began. Hope this is for long, but I don't know how much it'll change in the future. Nothing you can say right now will change my mind so please don't cry for it was, cry for what it wasn't.

Quarto de desespero

Nova janela no quarto do desespero. Chamas queimam a madeira que a compõe mas ela não desaparece. A paisagem que se vê por entre a janela é de terror, medo e morte. Estou num quarto feito à minha medida, que se vai aos poucos alargando, dando lugar a novas janelas e portas mas cada vez que vejo a paisagem por entre tais objectos apenas aparece algo que faz o quarto aumentar. O meu desespero deixa entrar a paranóia que ainda mata o medo de sair. Se calhar o que me conforta é o desespero e a paranóia. Não sei. Mas continuo nesta cadeira sentado apenas com a secretária vazia à minha frente, ocasionalmente vendo o que há fora do quarto por entre as janelas e portas.
Levanto-me do frio chão que me condiciona os movimentos e não me deixa pensar num plano de fuga do quarto. Uma figura sombria senta-se no chão, por baixo da janela do medo. Parece que não tem face, apenas um corpo morto e vazio por dentro. Pergunto-me se alguma vez teve o que queria. Nunca tinha reparado nele mas também nunca tive uma luz vinda duma janela. Ele deve ter sido o primeiro prisioneiro voluntário deste quarto. Sento-me ao lado dessa figura e espero a conexão de este quarto com outro para poder comunicar com outro ser humano. Ou então que apareça a janela da esperança, algo que me dê forças para sair desta prisão. Até então fico sentado nesta cadeira a escrever cartas de amor a mim próprio.
A minha voz, apenas por mim ouvida, espalha-se pelo quarto mas não passa pela janela aberta que deixa a brisa de verão passar e o som de crianças a brincar contentes, sem saber que futuro lhes é reservado. Por mais alto que grite, por mais perto que esteja da janela a profanar tais palavras, as crianças continuam a rir-se e a divertir-se, nunca ouvindo palavras de tal desespero. Também a minha juventude raramente foi corrompida com palavras de pecados que nunca por mim foram cometidos, porque iriam estas crianças ser obrigadas a ouvir e a ajudar-me? Vou deixá-las brincar com a sua inocência para não terem de ser adolescentes parados, vivos mas inúteis. Portanto a janela esperança será a minha única luz quando a noite se abater sobre mim e o desespero for tão grande que apenas se verá uma luz no fundo do túnel chamada morte.

Book of life

Lost in the words of the soul, I can't find the way to get out of this book of life, a drama that tells the same history over and over again, forcing us to go insane by reading and living it. It's a simple game that you play by living. I consider it a torture. But no matter. Another page turns, a new chapter begins but the characters are all the same, they do the same, nothing changes but the book itself in a slowly way. That is life but we don't know it. At least until now. You weren't meant to fly, you were born to be burn along with the book of life that contains your fate, your story, your legend. Because nothing that you can do will change your destiny. You were born to die and it's written.
No suicidal intents, no killing other humans, no sorrow in the eyes of little children, nothing at all is real. All is meant to burn and your mind only plays tricks on you so you imagine a better life, a choice, a freedom. But it's all a big lie because you were planed and you're doomed to suffer the curse of being old. Many are, you are not alone but the one's you love the most are the one's that will always leave you sooner. My demons will hunt you at night for all the time that I've spent thinking of you. But I'll make sure that you'll burn will the page of your life. You'll disappear, you'll cry tears of blood that will make your destiny explode, you'll seek my help and guidance but I won't be there by body, I'll be reading my own book in soul and laughing at the figures that you make, the sadness in your eyes, the tears that slowly froze in your face revealing your true power.
There's no secret, the book of life is closing at the rate of the sun burns your scull. Vain is to fight against the void that you feel in your heart, there's no news, you will love me to death and after because it's just a power to big for you to handle it alone. Save the letter that reveals this time that I know you feel happy so it won't burn in the fires of hell along with your body. Maybe I'll see you there. Until then the book of life continues to turning pages, twist fates and change chapters. Believe me when I say that yours will still give a lot more.

Reminders

I'm trying to find a way to express myself without hurting anyone but it's not easy because my feelings all end up touching somebody, in a good or bad way. Right now I'm trying to write without disturbing the one's that are near me, in bed. Someone in my mind tells me to scream. But my little conscience still controls that part of my mind. But I'm loosing it fast. I'm loosing myself. I'm not able to stop it, it's a power too intense, to strong pulling me into certain doom. The only and ultimate sacrifice is the only way to save my trapped soul. It's not a state of mind or a phase that I'm passing trough, it's a state of mind and it's starting to take over my whole body, controlled by my soul. All of you think that I need to be helped but it's all opinions, opinions that I'll never listen. Because the only opinion that matters to me is mine.
Don't remind me of my pain, it's enough that all that I see reminds me of the past, when I was happy with her. You're probably right, she doesn't reminds me at all until she speaks with me and I clear her mind. From what I remember of the past, her certain actions may reflect on a disease today. But I won't be here to take her over, to console her and make her forget her pain until she dies. I bet you'll hate me for this words, if you don't hate me already. remind of what I was, a fake image of you, don't remind of me, the real person that makes you suffer.
Don't know why I'm writing this this to her because I only love myself but that fuckin stupid is somehow stuck in my mind. It doesn't let go, it doesn't disappears, it creates chaos and disorder in my head. Do I want to continue and start a serious relationship with you? If I only love myself, why am I dreaming awake that I'm in a serious relationship with you? Or why do even I think of you all day and consider this option? Am I a fake, is this a way to trick you? I can't get into a conclusion. I need another night awake thinking about you. I know you won't be reading this so I'll just drawn in sorrow and stupidity. I know that you're thinking of me, remembering of that afternoon. I'm reminding it too.

Música ascendente

Aquela música imponente passa na minha cabeça vez sem conta, melodia repetitiva e controladora na minha cabeça. As suas letras dão-me noção de que estou enloquecendo-me aos poucos, tomando conta dos meus pensamentos. As questões filosóficas que outrora se colocaram na minha cabeça vão-se dissipando aos poucos com o doce ritmo da música. Dão-me noção que estou perdido em mim próprio. Dão-me energia para saltar e sentir a raiva que contenho por dentro. Aquela música controla-me.
Institivemente ligo as colunas e selecciono a música, sem pensar, e, mais uma vez, deixo-me controlar pela melodia. Parece mentira tudo o que faço ou digo mas tudo isso é baseado no real significado de tais palavras proferidas por outra pessoa que não eu. Algo negro apodera-se da minha alma quando a música toca. Oiço os sinos da igreja a tocarem uma melodia suave mas quase surda. Ninguém a quer ouvir nem ela quer ser ouvida. Apenas a mim ela controla.
Ela faz da minha dor a dor dela. Ela partilha os meus pensamentos e toma conta do meu corpo quando não estou em mim. Ela responde às minhas questões e consola-me quando estou no desesperante silêncio da noite, a pensar no quanto eu gostaria de mudar o passado para aquilo a que eu desejo ser o futuro. Nada mais nem ninguém faz o mesmo por mim. Não o conseguem. Apenas aquela melodia secreta e hipnotizante o faz. Tal música controla-me.
Música ascendente do Inferno, vens para me assombrar ou para me ajudar? responde-me a esta pergunta enquanto fico hipnotizado contigo. Leva-me daqui.

The thoughts of you

So where's the question now? Where's the sad looking face that corrupted my thoughts while we were swimming in that summer afternoon? Surely you haven't forgotten that time. We were together and we were happy that way, even if one of us knew that it wouldn't last. True may be that you don't want me or you to get our hurt of a relationship but tell me a relationship where one of the lovers doesn't get hurt. If there's such a thing, it wasn't made for neither of us. You may fight, you may give in but you'll always get hurt. Travel far away if you wish but I know that I'll be in your mind all the time. I don't know if it's love or only a wish to solve the puzzle that my personality is but somehow I'm always in your mind. One thing I can tell you: I won't forget that afternoon. But still I don't know what has burned me more, the sun or my doubts about your and my feelings. Could you tell me?
Now you don't talk to me, you're so far away. You don't answer my messages in the self-phone, with this I feel that I miss you and that I'm lonely. When I think of you, it looks like the world has died and it has left me alone to live without you. Not saying that I love you, that would be suicidal. Just saying that somehow you've touched me. Tell me your secrets and I'll feel more alike to tell you mine. They're destructive, I warn you. But you've told me mine and I think I've helped you in the water while you were reacting to that anger that has consumed your soul. My worries right now are if you're going to know this and, when you do, what is going to be your reaction? Are you going to push me away or closer? Because I liked to feel your body heat. The dreams of that day keep my fire burning for now. When will you extinguish it? I'll start to count the moons that pass trough my nights, the vampires in my dreams and my thoughts of you during the day. Is it going to be you to save me to myself or are you another one that thinks that I don't need to be saved, that this is just another passing phase? Let me think of you for now...

Dead love

A soldier fighting for his homeland in the territory of the forsaken. The idiots are the one's that go and never get back. They won't be missed. But this fighter has someone at home that awaits him to die. He's cursed by his own love. She loves him when she sees him bloody and almost dyeing. It's the dead love. Two doomed humans, wishing to be dead and alone, together forever while death slips everyday by their hands like little grains of sand. Never-existence comes back to hunt them to the end of the world. They'll wish to die but they'll live until there's a black home instead of a home land called Earth. Not letting them go, Death laughs at their fate. It becomes so awkward and deeply disturbing not to get older and to see their sons die.
They write themselves letters of blood, to remember forever of what they wished. Never getting the living and fire burning love, the fake love that humans possess. They write diaries of blood as a way to communicate with each other, other than telepathy. The silence behind them disturbed them the most, not the dead love that they have. They've walked trough enemy lines and came out alive. This curse is just to big and deep for them to get rid of. Disorder rules in their minds while they seem calm outside. They continue together even when they feel alone. They possess the hell on Earth when they wish that they were in Heaven. Sinful thoughts to those who believe in what the rest of the world believes. They believe in the bloody christ that has left them this terrible curse, like a revengeful god. They won't get up from the curse that will hunt them to the end of times. They will remember when they were free. Not together but alone and happy. Saved from the rest of the world, they'll love the dead and real love.

Emotional

Emotions... why are the hunting me? Is my mind playing tricks on me? Is my brain so stupid and small to let me have this curse that humans call emotions? Emotions are a waste of time. Humans say that they have so they can fell that they live for something. They have no other goal in life than to feel that they are alive and for that they think that they need emotions. Hate or love. Neither controls me. I don't need either of those. Because I don't need and I don't want to be alive. And don't consider me nuts or crazy. I'm not like you. I'm different and proud of it.
Hate... is probably the closest to a feeling that I've really had. It's true that everybody hates but the only thing I do is contain anger from the hate to everyone. It's like they say, I don't discriminate, I hate everyone. Everyone and everything. But there are different levels of hate. Few less, few more, few so strong that could kill, few so fake that they only use it to be alone. But no one hides it because nobody can control it. It's like a never-ending fire that burns in your soul. It generates the anger. I have a lot of hate inside me.
Love... the most idiot way to feel alive. You only get out hurt. You can't control it. It's stupid, you're never your real self, always a fake image for the other that you think you love. You waste time and money so that it can be forgotten by the unforgiven time. It erases all that you were until it ends. Open your eyes an realise that such thing doesn't exist. It only exist in each person that loves herself. It's a lost battle, fought in vain against your soul. Let your soul control your mind and then you can finally realise that you have no emotions. The world is dead. You are only fakes to try and change the ways of the human. Dislike it or not, hate me or love me, deep inside you know that I'm right. Let your soul consume your hopes and control your mind and then you'll be alive until you kill yourself and be truly dead.
Void... that's me. Empty inside, a soul imprisoned in this cage of a body. More than a human, I'm reality and I'm not emotional. Emotions are for fools.

Considering

Am I the monster that lays beneath the bed of the little kids, tormenting them trough the night, giving them nightmares while they sleep? Have I grow to be a figure so torn and different from what I was or what you were used to see me? I'm not that different. I'm still the same person, just caring more about my problems and not having that magical world that lived in. This and more. Other things that torment me when I'm awake. Don't tell me what I have to say or do. Tell me that you're going to carry on, even if without me.
I'm a lie, I'm a sinner to my own religion. I can't even stand up for my principals. I'm fake and I'm drowning with sorrow in my pool of blood. I kiss but I don't ever love. I need time to think what my words mean and what my actions say. I need time to review my emotions because I don't want to say that I love you in vain, I don't want to say that I love you so you can say no to my face and leave me there thinking how stupid I was. I won't make an effort to change my feelings so you can destroy my few hopes and dreams with one word.
I'm in a different world, with a different mood, in a alternative universe. Maybe there I'm not so much of a fake or maybe I'm even more a fake there than I am here. Wish I could have the guts to say with my full heart that I love someone else that is not me but the more I think of it, the more it sounds like a lie. Another lie, another crime against myself. Tell me if I'm an idiot to say and write this sinful words that I know that you'll read, sooner or later? I have no future planed but I know that, somehow, you won't fit in it. Maybe because of me, maybe because of you but what I think right now is that one of us will have to fight for the other and the more I think of it, the more that person seems you. But one thing I appreciate that you gave me: you made me realise that my feelings aren't the right one's to be in a relationship. I have to consider this but if I decide to fight for you, this feelings will have to change. Will I be more of a fake then than now?

Anjo caído

Afasto-me cada vez mais,
Continuo a tentar,
Tentar encontrar,
O lugar para onde vais.

Porque foges,
Sentes que tudo é rosa,
Porque corres,
Já descobriste que a vida é falsa?

Voas para longe,
Tentas encontrar,
Um lugar para ficar,
Mas que será que esse manto vermelho esconde?

Os teus sentimentos ocultas,
Dizes mentiras,
Contra ti própria lutas,
Escondeste ao virar das esquinas.


Os anjos caíram,
Os demónios conquistaram,
Numa vida futura,
Terás que ser dura.

Calígula, a raposa

Vejo os seus olhos penetrantes a olharem para mim, como que a pedir algo que eu tenho, e a tentar hipnotizar-me para lhe dar o objecto pelo qual ele suplica.Vejo o seu pêlo dourado a brilhar conforme a luz do Sol incide sobre ele. Talvez por medo, talvez por companhia, ele segue-me por toda a parte da casa, observando todos os meus movimentos até que nota algo que lhe interessa. Não me deixa dormir até tarde com o seu ladrar constante, não me deixa vestir pelo seu interesse por tudo o que lhe é novo, faz-me companhia até à mínima viajem do meu quarto à cozinha. Segue-me o seu olhar, que sinto a queimar-me na nuca, sinto que ele me tenta controlar para lhe dar o que ele tanto deseja. Não sabe ele o poder que contenho por dentro, o suficiente para não me deixar controlar por latidos ou pedidos constantes de coisas que não são dele.
Vejo o seu focinho encostado à minha perna, mais uma vez pedindo algo que não lhe pertence. Não existe nada que ele possa fazer para me mudar a mente. Não lhe pertence, não lhe dou. Mas saímos. Deixo-o correr por entre árvores e arbustos até não o ver. Aí chamo-o outra vez e vejo-o a correr a grande velocidade na minha direcção com um claro sorriso no seu focinho. Parece uma raposa. Uma raposa dourada e sagrada que viverá para sempre. Mais vivo do que tudo à sua volta, ele corre. Voltamos a casa e nada que ele possa fazer para não se sentir cansado. Sente-se vivo. É bom. Saberei que estará cá mais tempo que o cão antes adorado, Thor. Chegaram a conhecer-se e Calígula, ainda muito jovem e energético, arranjava sempre maneira de fazer o experiente e poderoso Thor mostrar-lhe o que era lutar. Mas não agora. Thor partiu e Calígula está cá para ficar. Calígula, o cão ou raposa, com o seu pêlo dourado e medo segue-me por todo o lado. Deixo nele a memória de Thor.

Acesso de raiva

Mas porque me parece tudo tão distorcido e tão claro ao mesmo tempo? As pessoas não me percebem nem as minhas acções. Questionam-me ou afirmam que estou louco. Não quero saber de vocês. Estou farto de vocês. Até porque não me deixam quando eu quero estar sozinho. Já não quero saber se ficam magoados com estas palavras ou com as minhas acções. Sim, só eu é que importo para mim próprio e não quero saber se acham que estou a ser egoísta. Se fosse perfeito não iria gostar de mim. Porque insistem em perseguir-me como qualquer pessoa demente que não sabe o que é o esquerdo e o que é o direito. É irritante saber que estão cá para o que der e vier. Não tenho planos a longo prazo para me dizerem isso.
Estou farto de me perguntarem porque me sinto assim, de me pedirem para escrever coisas mais alegres e de me compararem àquele palhaço a que chama "pai". Gostava de saber porque raios fui eu nascer se não para ficar chateado e ser perseguido a toda a hora. Já para não falar a censura. Já escolhi vários caminhos, nenhum deles envolvia dor. Parece que esta caiu de repente em cima de mim. Se ele faz porcaria, naturalmente que a culpa é dele. Deveria ser ele a ajudar-nos a levantar do chão quando estamos em baixo. Invés disso, temos de ser nós a ajudá-lo. Não percebo. Sinto-me assim porque tudo à minha volta parece que me obriga a sentir assim. O único sítio em que estou bem é no meu quarto, às escuras e sozinho, onde ninguém me chateia e eu sou dono de toda a gente. Não vou escrever coisas alegres pois não é assim que me sinto. Eu apenas escrevo que sinto. E neste momento estou a tentar chegar à razão pela qual me estou a justificar. Talvez seja para vocês perceberem de uma vez por todas que não quero ajuda nem preocupação. Isso apenas aleija mais.
Terei de criar um novo blog para poder escrever coisas ainda mais pessoais sem que ninguém me censure? Não perceberam já que este é um método meu para me manter calmo e deixar as coisas sair. Mas vocês apenas pioram ao criticarem o que escrevo. Não gostam, não leiam. Nunca mais vos mando o link disto. Talvez aí pensem que estou melhor. Já para não dizer que a banda não vai assim tão bem. Cada vez vejo a opção de sair mais forte. Não sei tocar, bom para vocês. Arranjem alguém que o saiba. Não tenho guitarra eléctrica. Azar. Talvez assim evoluísse mais depressa mas eu estou a fazer isto para mim, não para vocês, por isso vou ao ritmo que me apetecer. Vou-vos deixar a pensarem nisto até que se apercebam que é tempo de me deixar estar sozinho no meu quarto.

Percebe isto

Não tentes percebe-me pois o fundo da minha mente é demasiado complicada e obscura para uma mente frágil como a tua. Não te quero magoar, é tudo o que te posso dizer. Nada mais quero neste momento do que não magoar nem preocupar os meus amigos e pessoal que se preocupa comigo. Não pedi a vossa ajuda e não agradeço a vossa preocupação pois isso só magoa mais. Não quero parecer pobre e mal agradecido mas se é assim que eu faço passar a mensagem, que o seja. Não mudarei. Nada tenho planeado para o futuro se não perseguir os meus pensamentos. Não estou doente, não preciso ajuda. Não sou mais um doido à solta, sou apenas eu próprio. Não me conheces nem me percebes. Por isso dizes que posso precisar de ajuda.
Ela é igual ou parecida comigo mas está assim sem ser por opção própria. É o que acho estranho e, nos meus restantes momentos de vida impura, tentarei ajudá-la a viver melhor e a descansar-se de qualquer problema ou preocupação que ela tenha. Por isso não lhe conto os meus problemas nem lhe mostro o que escrevo. Só lhe mostrei um poema que escrevi que até vocês acabaram por gostar. Ela ficará bem sem mim assim que perceber que tem bons amigos e que não necessita de alguém a quem sente uma atracção física, já que ela apenas me viu uma vez. Isto deixar-me-a por aqui mais uns tempos, tempos incertos e sempre de chuva em cima de mim.
Quero também dizer que não sou aquele pseudo-adulto a quem chamas "pai". Não vou ser um fracasso como ele e esta é apenas mais uma motivação para a minha vontade. Sim, sinto-me desconfortável a falar dos meus pensamentos tão abertamente. Mas posso-te dizer que ele já foi mas já não é uma figura fraternal para mim, é apenas mais um peso. Chama-me maluco, desnaturado, bastardo, o que quiseres mais isto é o que peso e que faço e nada que tu ou outra pessoa posso fazer para o mudar.
Apenas mais uma coisa: não sei se tens notado mas a Inês nalguns dos meus textos é a Inês que tem uma casa à frente da nossa em Tomar.

I'm myself

I feel the pressure to fall down to my knees and plied for mercy, to find a way to survive in the middle of this jungle of life. It's coming from all of you. You're currently missing the point. You're simply not understanding. I'm talking again with my friends but it's not get back to what it was. Because it will never be like that again. Right now is better until evil knocks in my minds door again. If I hate, I'm an idiot. If I love, I'm too emotional. If I'm myself, I all of the bad things in the world. Too bad for you. I'm myself forever more, get used to it. Maybe later I'll change but for now this is who I am.
About the hate for my former love: it's real and it's healthy. It's a way to let my rage out. Don't care what you think. It's real, can't ignore it. I'll hail the dead to hate her for the pain she has caused me. I don't want to meet nobody new because I don't want to feel the pain again, over and over again, like a stupid and simple human that just doesn't care of what is to think. You need love to make yourselves feel beautiful or needed. I don't because all I need right now is myself and my demons, left in the dark of my room and in the corner of my mind. I'll let the fire of my rage take over my soul if that makes me feel better.
I can't look directly at the sun because it blinds me. I can't cry because it makes me weak to my eyes. I can and want to bleed because it's my food, it's my way to survive and my ticket to the throne of my seven universes. And no, I don't need help to "cure" my fuckin mental problem because I simply don't have one. I'm myself and no one nor nothing can change that. Accept it!

Alive

The sun has burned my skin once again. The cold water has tried to drown me but I'm still alive. With who I want and alive. I'm living my dreams and nightmares. I'm filling my muscles dying due to my lack of will to live. But I'm still alive. I'm still feeling this will and I don't know why I'm still alive with all these chances to fulfil this feeling so strong that has took over me. Nothing nor nobody in me war, I don't understand. I'm alive though I don't want it.
Am I in a strange planet to others that they can't reach me or understand me? I need to feel alive and have a significant reason to live, someone to take care of, someone to let me know that I'm not just another being walking on Earth. I need to be someone, I need to be special, something with real meaning to the people I want. I'm not asking attention or emotions from you. I'm asking some meaning to my life, more than just to exist to die. For now I'm still alive.
I can't gather the energy to love someone new, besides myself. I've got the last bad experiences that has thought me that loving another person just isn't worth the pain and hurt. In the end, on way or another, we end up hating each other for there was still love in one of us. I'm sick of the crying, the breaking up by the phone. Weren't you strong enough to tell me in my face? Didn't you respected me enough to tell me that in that sort of way? Didn't realised until now that she was right, you've hurted me bad and deeply. I just didn't saw it because I wasn't completely over you. I've still imagined what my life would be now if we were still together. Not anymore. I'm alive to experience the hate for you.
Alive for now to hate, miss someone that isn't in my life anymore, love myself and to write the words that are my anger and soul together to make me.

Hero

Flying to the gates of the damned land, born to save the ones that he loved, kidnapped at young age, forever more alive in his memories. False intent to recognize enemies and friends between common people. His mind in something else. Hero, you're missed and you've committed a fault to humanity in the epic ages of the middle age, where everything was gray. Accept the sorrow that plays music in your head, destroying your brain and turning your body into a misshaped
figure that will terrorise future generations just by hearing your name. There's nothing so holy in this universe that can't be turned into a torn sin. Don't fall for the mistake of loving the beautiful princess in the top of the longest tower. Give a try to the new age of epic stories: the death of the hero that has nothing accomplished besides the curse of living to fail.
He doesn't want a white horse, he will not fight a dragon, he just wants his story to be told. Justify the name of your cause, let someone take the burden off your shoulders and into your head to remind you that you're still alive. Alive to fulfil the curse of living to fail. Born to crash and burn, die to once again cheer the world, keeping eternally this universe clean and free of the monsters in our nightmares. let your blood join the rain and fall upon the hungry mouths of the vampires in my dreams, that seem to know my future. Your life isn't worth living to help the needs of others considered creatures of evil and enemies of their false gods. Not even for your shiny armour that in battle will only hurt you. Await for the hammer of Thor to crush your body into my thousand pieces. Fly into the piece and quiet of some black hole in the sun.
Hero, you don't comfort the kids in the cold nights when they're scared of the monsters beneath their beds and inside their closets. Tell me, what is you purpose here besides to sacrifice your soul only for the benefit of this ungrateful humanity that we are. Walk into the red light that will take to the infernal suffer that it always always meant for me. It doesn't have a second meaning, you're doomed forever more to the fires of Hell. Don't ask what your god meant when he wrote with your blood on paper the words that have cursed your life, ask what god are you serving now that you know that I'm the creator of this seven universes. Hero there will be no story for you, no epic battle or love, just the doom written in the pages of time by me.

100

100 words made me smile,
100 words made me cry,
100 words made me what I am,
100 ways to say that it's the number 100.

A vision in a man's dreams,
The water running wild,
All real it seems,
A soul to the devil sold,
For 100 more words.

A man reality,
Torn apart,
Solid content,
Broken his loyalty.

100 ways to wish,
100 words to say,
Revenge is a dish served cold,
In the night or day.

Tell the story,
Of the lost women,
The way was blurry,
Into the stairway to heaven.

100 is the way,
To the sky,
100 is the way,
To get high.

Worshipping madness

Woke up today with a strange noise in my hear, like a drilling in my brain, a perfect way to say that I already been this way before. A sign of madness, an invert cross screaming insanity into my soul, crashing my dreams. Got up before the shadow of life was taken away from me. I've once lived to be happy, then I lived to be a dreamer, now I dream to be free. Can't speak as I want because there are too much people caring, reading every word I write, studying my sins. I don't want to lose friends, I just don't want to hurt them. Make that clear. That's why I'm stepping away. Trapped in my own world, I can't breath. I followed the path to happiness but ended it finding out that it was an abyss, an abyss to which I jumped, crashing down into sorrow. Now all that's left of me, is worshipping madness.
All these words I write seem so futile, so empty, constantly said or thought, written like sins on a cross that is just about to burn. I cry in the darkness of my room. I cry for the things that I don't wish to be. Remember those you don't love because they will hurt you constantly trough your life. I'm writing to myself, not for nobody else. Though I wished that the day of my birth wouldn't ever happen. It was a mistake, I'm an error, forever sinning in hell for being born. Excuse me while I live for it's not long before I kill myself. AND NO I DON'T HAVE A MENTAL PROBLEM, I just don't want your help, your friendly hand, because it burns. I haven't my real self in the past, I wasn't my real self in the past, that's so fuckin much of a difference that it makes you blind to the real me. Is this so much fuckin pain that you can't take it? I've told you once before, I don't want your help because it hurts and in the end it will hurt you. And all the help you give to me will always be seen like a way to explore me, bringing me to my knees and using the excuse that I'm paying my dues. So let me worship madness, let me drink to insanity because it's the only way that I'll exist. Don't remember me.

The dream of you

There's a Heaven between us, a Hell besides us, something guiding us, something tearing us apart. I imagine, all the nights, how we will meet each other. When will that day arrive. Sooner than the day of death I hope. I want, I need, I breath to see your beautiful green eyes again, to keep an image in my memory that is better than the others that I had from you. Sometimes I think that we're one miracle away, but since there's no god, there's no miracle. So if there's no miracle, what's in our away? The thought of you not remembering me. The fear of having become a stranger to you, an unknown person from the past, a leaf passing by whispered by the wind. Will we ever meet again? Are you going to Heaven? I'm going to Hell, maybe I'll see you there, scared for what I've become but strong to try to get me away from there. But this is only fantasy, this is only a childish dream. The dream of you.
No one lets me get drawn in my problems, won't you let me live my dreams? Every day I lay in my bedroom floor, dreaming of you and my child memories, where you live, with total health though I know that isn't true. You're somewhere sick, I'm here mentally dead and with sanity forgotten, insanity slowly took over my mind. Won't your dreams of me save my soul? Because god and the devil are playing cards for my soul, the cards of life, those who told me that I'm doomed forever and promised to the devil to take me to Hell. You can save me but you're too far away to know my problems, my dreams and my fate. Neither I want to trouble with my problems, live the pure life and maybe you'll see my dreams in Heaven. The dream of you is still keeping me alive, what would you soul do to mine if I saw you? Dreams of you, Inês, wherever you are now.

Walked away

Hello my friends, where are you right now? Hidden in the burning sun while fate awaits your move to realise the ending of man kind, destroying all that's wrong and evil, taking all that's new and pure to the land of paradise. Lost in myself, I write this sinful words to anyone that doesn't want to ear or help. They're for me, to remember my thoughts, my ideas, my sins and my feelings. This is the way that my trapped soul communicates with the outside, telling the body that it wants to be free, to fly into the unknown Universe. Yes I'm so damn blind that I can't see what other people feel, what other people think, if they're hurt or if they wish to communicate with me. Yes I've pushed away my friends, a quick and sudden pain now but a relief of what will happen in the close future. Because I'm trying to not care anymore to this world or to their life's. So what if I'm destroying mine, I never asked for someone to save me, never asked someone to care.
Someday I would like to the discover the real happiness, that moment when you can say that once in your life it was worth living. I'm moving on to that other place that really matters to me, leaving all this behind, something that I never cared for and that I never wished to happen. I never wished to be alive but know that I am I wish to die. And no one told that it would be easy to live, no one told me that I someday would be so torn, so broken into a thousand pieces that, when they came together, I would reveal my real self, the one you don't like. I can't forget the one in the past but I won't live to see her in the future. If she's still alive. But I won't cry for that, I won't cry for you, I only cry for myself, the only thing in this world that I love. I'll let my soul fly to the other part of the Universe far away from all of you. If I could tell her something I would tell her "I love you". In my time of death I'll wish her alive forever more but not to cry for something that no one wants, no matter how long we've knew each other, no matter we've liked each other once and no matter how wrong I may be.
I'll walk away from this pain, from this voices in my head, from her... forever more.

Quiet

Torn apart and unwilling to put myself together once again, I lay in the ground that welcomed me once and the will comfort me forever more. I'll take my eternal rest soon, I'll leave this world to go to the Hell kingdom to conquer it and frozen it so I can stay quiet forever, in a hole where no one is found neither wants to be found, where the sound is torn to silence and where blood means Death. Oh the sweet death that covers all of the Universe, quickly taking more souls to the forever more than the humans that profane your world. Won't that Death take me too?
Soon it is night and I can see my desire burn with the sun crashing down in the horizon. My energy seems to get back to me, my will to stay forever quiet is now stronger and confirmed by the shadow of the moon in the sky. Moon, my real mother, in the sky, shinning in the nightly skies making me smile because I know that she's shinning for me, showing me that she cares and that she wants me near her. She's quiet, she's wise and she's there, but too far away from me, removing all my sanity from my mind. It's to her I cry when I'm absent, it's to her I smile when I see a star passing by in the sky, it's to her that I'll soon die. I'll be forever more quiet with her.
In this day, my opinion is wrong, is from an idiot or is censored. I can't say what I feel without having someone yelling at me for my will. I'm not an idiot, I'm not what you wished I would be and I'm glad I'm not like that because it would be just too stupid to live that way. I'm my own self, I like the dark and it's quietness. I don't need help, I don't need people saying that I'm stupid, I don't need my friends telling me to feel better, even now that they're gone. I only need to be quiet, with my thoughts and darkness, remembering the times that I was happy, my years of innocence, the afternoons that I've spent with her where we were both foolish and only playing was the world. Not music or mind sanity, not eating nor family, just playing. let me be quiet.
I still remember her cute green eyes, what I miss the most about her. It was her the first love, though she didn't get it. She was after someone else. And I stood, quiet. Now I don't see her in years, I'm not sure if she still thinks of me, if she liked me or the other guy, if she remembers me. Anyway she feels or remembers, I'm not the person she knew, I'm too damn concerned in my thoughts that I would just push her away like I did to my friends. I go to sleep in my pit of self pity, glad for what I am and crying for what other people aren't. I lost my faith for humanity now I'll loose my faith for the people around me. I like me and that's what matters for me. If someone changes and if you find me, Inês, I'll be in the darkest corner of my bedroom consoling my gray soul, telling that my body will finally let it go to fly to the end of the Universe and be quiet.

Self-pity

All accepted the truth that they see trough their eyes but what it the real truth? Because everyone as their own vision, everyone's different no matter how much they think equally or look alike. The hate that fills my body will consume me until the day that I kill all of those who oppose me, realising my soul to the damned that are thirsty for my soul, the vampires that seek my veins to drink my blood one more time to make them more powerful than ever, forever more. I hope that someday soon I can kill all of you until there's only the one that has the power to make me have pity. Self-pity from my problems, leave me alone.
Do I have problems with my conscience? Do I have demons in my head? Do I have the devil inside me, making me mad, wanting me dead? No. I have myself plus one to remember the day that I decided to be true and not that fucking fake self that made me sick. It's that bomb that started to make noise in my head and that scared my soul, so damn close to the abyss that I enjoyed seeing that person-wannabe fall down and brake into a thousand or more pieces. So damn ways to change your life into something better than your own. Self pit came and saved me.
I hear music in my head. It means nothing to me. I stop the music. I listen to voices in my head. They're telling me to die, hanged on a rope, in the top of a building. I should have tried, I should have fight but now I'm left here alone to rotten the rots of the tree of my poison. Bring back myself from the deep corners of my soul, the one that lived more than ten million years ago, creating all seven universes, so he can destroy you all and take this Earth to the corner of shame of the Universe. Theory of a madman that is forever more lost in his own self-pity.
Blackhole of self-pity give me back my freedom.

Navigator of Dreams

Nothing in sight,
Deep in the night,
Navigator of dreams,
Nothing real appears.

Let the wind come,
Be the wild one,
Sail the night sea,
You've got something to be.

Be the bringer of hopes,
The illusion of our dreams,
Deceive all that's real,
Keep your part of the deal.

Define the law,
Things that people believe they saw,
Give us our rights,
As we walk into the light.

Let us fly free,
Let us see,
The dead world,
With only one word.

Until sunrise,
Help us realise,
That you're no saint,
And your world is fake.

Mundo cinzento

Sentado no chão do meu quarto, com a escuridão dominante a preencher-me os pensamentos. Volto-me para o lado onde a luz do meu rádio ilumina a parede distante. Tento focar os pensamentos aí, enviar mensagens para alguém que as queira apanhar mas nenhuma resposta é obtida. Vou então deitar-me na cama, procurando algum conforto entre os lençóis, algo que me diga que mais há para me preocupar. Pois sobre nada me preocupo. Nada nem ninguém eu amo. Apenas a mim próprio. Porque vejo em mim próprio a fonte de auto-destruição que me mantém baixo. Há que largar essa fonte de auto-destruição vinda dos inícios do tempo. Mas cada vez que falo disto sou mal interpretado, sou afastado ou diminuído ainda mais, até ao poço mais fundo localizado na minha alma. Penso que me afasto ou faço por afastar aqueles que ainda se importam, aqueles que ainda falam, aqueles que ainda se preocupam. Esses são aqueles que eu pedi para se afastarem para não se magoarem, pois a minha linha de dor tem mais veneno que a picada de um escorpião. Parece mentira aquilo que digo, as minhas acções parecem sempre tão erradas que ficam marcadas na minha pequena consciência. Mas não me arrependo do que fiz, pois isso iria apenas ajudar-me a ficar mais em baixo, em descer mais na minha consideração. Quanto mais tento para mudar ou afastar estes pensamentos, mais fortes eles vêm. Estou em dor, não conseguem ver? Por isso espero que venha a chuva ácida para me queimar a pele. Porque apenas ela me pode fazer esquecer esta dor.
Desta vez não procuro mais ninguém para amar, pois não preciso de essa pessoa, apenas preciso de mim e daquilo que gosto. Não quero ser repreendido por não ter feito algo ou por me ter esquecido de algum pormenor que apenas cabe no sítio mais infinito da minha mente. Informações de que nada servem, aquelas discussões ridículas de quem gosta mais um do outro ou de quem faz o quê. Estou finalmente bem sozinho, para todo o sempre, pois não desejo nada mais que isso. Será esta aquela paranóia que disseram que existia devido à mágoa causada da última relação que tive? Nada importa pois agora até com desconhecidas procuro uma fonte de calor apenas por uma noite e nunca mais. Corrompo os meus próprios princípios, sinal de loucura, mas continuo para todo o sempre perdido nos meus pensamentos. Ninguém tirará de lá, ninguém me salvará. Que desabe aquela blasfémia de realidade em que vivo em cima de todos aqueles que procuram algo mais. Que se apercebam que veneraram o deus errado, que apoiaram sempre aqueles que nunca existiram. Apercebam-se que a liberdade é de cada um de nós e de mais ninguém. Afastem-se do mundo cor-de-rosa em que vivem e venham para o mundo cinzento onde apenas eu vivo.