Down in the Gutter - day four

Winter's come and the window's open,
By now all the food as gotten rotten,
I find myself looking at a wall and smiling,
Even though at the same time I'm crying.
She left a note with the moving men,
She'd be gone and we'd never be together again,
I feel the cold that chills my bones
Doesn't come from the winter, comes from being alone.
The dog sighs and lies down,
On his face just a frown,
I wish to be kept in silence
But the neighbours and my doorbell have an alliance.
By now Winter has conquered all,
The snow came and covered the Fall,
I enjoy the little words I mutter
From the tip of the bottle to the bottom of the gutter.

Shades - day three

I dared see the sun today. Got out of that stuffy apartment, full of dust and memories. Took the dog for a walk, saw girls running. Not a bad day overall. Came back home and closed the shades.
I got a letter saying she moved, she had gone away to another country. With the note came a picture of us, smiling happily in on of our first dates. Of our secrets, of our inside jokes, not a trace.
I kept the shades closed and looked at the darkness. My mind was as blank as my heart. I needed her. I still do.

Space - day two

Everything feels the same but different. The colours on the walls, the display of the house - all remains intact. Of course the curtains have fallen by now. I've come to realize that in time everything will change. New furniture will come, the old will be gone, I might even move. But the deep dark memories will remain so long as the walls keep standing. Though these walls may stand, my mind keeps crumbling.

She's been gone for a week now. I woke up this morning thinking it was all a bad dream. Turned to my side, tried to smell her hair, kiss her forehead, smile at her and say good morning. But there was nothing there but a pillow and more space. I fucking hate the space. How cold can one person be? Even in the summer an empty bed seems like winter. And as Bill Withers once said, ain't no sunshine when she's gone. Through all these shitty days I've sought reason. I've found nothing. I've fought with myself just to feel her here. I dared myself to jump on to the street and meet someone, talk to a human being. But then she's no ordinary human being. She's the one that makes me smile while she makes me cry.

I'm convinced that time's passing by. I can see it in my watch, even in the microwave. I can see it in the dog as he runs around the apartment whining and crying. He misses his mother. I miss her too. Her warmth, her smile, her enthusiasm. I know where I went wrong. I went wrong in going right. I stayed for her. I should've gone for me. Maybe it'd be better for us. Now I'm stuck and we're faded. I'll do my best to be happy. Maybe that'll bring her to me. I tear a piece of paper and write on it: 'I feel your sadness from here.' I set it on her pillow and fall back asleep.

Bill Withers - Ain't No Sunshine

Solemn

Thine heart is but a frail display of a spring morning.
The Sun shines through the morrow, piercing the designs of malice
Brought by the night, a shadow that serves as warning,
Cast over the people of this fine land, from lord to novice.
Beauty is the sign of the coming of your smile,
Enlightening the day, expanding the rays of the sun.
Inviting is the breast decided to keep me a while,
Warm are the tights that my spirit has won.
Your silky white skin, so soft the touch,
One seems to be able to feel the clouds high in the sky.
But I do despair. Remains untouched the wild inside,
That residual feeling of falling, waking empty.
Fearing, grasping for something
Your vision hunts me, your heavenly figure besides me in bed
Makes me struggle out of my sheets, 
Run to the door, have it open and with a sigh acknowledge
That you've gone away again for the day.
Bring forth the wine, I want to feel spirited again,
Race through tavern, stumble on the rocks on the floor
On my way back home, ignoring the whores on the street,
Those bosoms that jump and wiggle like their fake smiles.
Through the darkness I see your figure
Through those dark alleys I follow you
Only to see under the light of the streetlight
That you're holding another men with a ring on your left hand
And a smile on your face.
Of this life I can face no further
For I can't have you then life will have me no longer.

In the open - day one

The door was left open. After all the shouting came the silence. She went away. I've considered leaving myself. But then who'd watch the dog? His expression is solemn. He senses the death of me.

The shock is strong. It's all pretty much done. I've began to search an answer. But there's no question. It's not a problem with a solution. It's a resolution. It's corrosive and my mind is already melting. I take a look around the room. I take a walk around it. Round and round I go. The dog comes with me. I lie down while the room spins. Everything's here except her. And she's everything. I look at the door again. Still open. Outside it's dark. The air smells the death of me.

Alive and well I look out the window into the open. Missing her by my side I still feel her touch. Wanting her by my side I still fantasize with her big brown eyes looking at me tenderly. Realistically I know that they won't be coming back to this house any time fast. I'm spent. All the energy has been drawn. It's still early in life to give up. But life is all but meaningful when you let something so beautiful and deep get away. I'll live under the sun while drinking from the darkness. The dark feels the death of me.


Disturbed - Forsaken

The builder

The builder died. Of all the buildings he built, of all the bricks he laid, the tower where he lived was the last to crumble. In his walls hung the pictures of his legacy. Smiling faces and fading memories, nothing could burn except the last image of his dead body in the memory. That remains printed for the world to see if the world is daring enough to open the conscience of a damaged animal and take a look inside.
A pyre was lit, chantings throughout the land echoed, people marched out from their houses to see a fire burn higher than the sun. Night became day. What was called the grim hour became the time to celebrate. Life was honoured. If the silence was patronage, his life was the secret that the wind carried on its shoulders. All around the village the wind spread and carried word of his passing. And his people, who owed him so much, carried their last goodbye in a rainy afternoon.

The ashes in the fireplace, on the road with the thunder

The thundering on the street, the shadows on the pavement, they appear and they leave, just a second and something's there, someone, nothing more now. Perhaps an illusion, perhaps the maddening silence has finally got the best of me. The light, the playfulness of its ways, conquering, piercing - smiting the fear. Now everything gone, only the cold stones to tell my stories. Now two people behind me, hidding in the corner, following me home - only when the thunder comes around. But the light in the sky, the ways of it, its language, its identity - taking me home, keeping me company, ruining all the unknown to explore. All the light, all that shimmering, twisting light, taking me home, letting me down to sleep.

Wrote her a letter. It said:

'All I've ever wanted...'

On the back I found the answer:

'When you left I died.

Sincerely,
Love'

Took the long road home. By the mountains, always seeing that old stream, older than the earth around my house. My house is pretty old, what does that say of me? It says things, says words. She'd offer me a warm cup of chocolate, a smile, a kiss on the forehead and a pet on my head. Then she'd say that I think too much. I think I think as much as anyone else. Even if slower - even if I always rush to a conclusion. Nevertheless, I followed the old stream. Coming trickling down the mountain - crashing against the rocks, holding on to the trees. Eventually I got to that old house, all bricks and windows. Entered through the rusty, hinging door, saw all the dusty wood furniture. Saw myself before, ages ago, playing on the ground, refusing to eat the meal on my plate, running around, hiding from the hands that tickled - running from the fear of growing up. Sat down on the table, opened the letter, wrote on capital letters:

"FUCK YOU!"

Licked the stamp and threw it in the garbage. Waited for a reply.

Outside the wind blows, the thunder falls, the rain flows. I drain the energy of the darkness that surrounds my house. I drain it into a pit of melancholy, into that sinking piece of bewildering shit that I blabber about in my sleep - awaken still. I look out the window and I see her. I see her laughing, smiling, fading into the dark, lost to me. All but an amout of ashes remain. I burned the damn letter.

Awake the next morning by the window, raining outside still, the clouds a light shade of grey, drowning me in the slow mist that covers the air of the morning. All around the world seems to move - rabbits run, cars pass by, shades come to disappear once again. All around the world seems to forgive and forget - all but the ashes in my fireplace. If the world is the day, if the ashes are the night, I'm but the dusk that hides between both in fear of getting caught and forcefully confronted with reality.

Criança

A criança corre pelos corredores e espaços abertos,
Corre com a pressa de ser, sem tempo para aprender,
Criança, um dia vais conseguir ver,
O tempo vai apanhar-te e ensinar-te
Tudo o que as fantasias e correrias não conseguiram.

Criança, não tenhas medo de te perder,
O teu ser é somente teu ser,
Ninguém nem nada to pode remover.

Corre, criança, corre até a alma te doer,
Pára então para rever e crescer,
Pára então e aprende tudo o que há a aprender.

Those songs of yesterday that taste so bitter on the tongue today...

Type O Negative - Anesthesia

Night of Samhain

Wherein the trail goes
None of our people knows,
But still the wind flows
Into the dark it follows,
Down the stream, by the trees,
All singing in a choir of three,
Inspired by the old Gods be.

But if in the dark forest lost
And into the night you wonder the cost
Of the life worth to still be lived
And all the knowledge yet to be seized,
And the faith to be lost in thee,
The Gods all silent by late fee
On this life bestowed on me.

Worry not, young one,
The trees and branches will protect you, son,
From all the judgement of beasts and men,
Not that different inside their den
Of evil intentions and worse doings,
Creating all kinds of ruins
Motivated by greed bred in their loins.

So, blessed be you, my children,
Do this which you're bidden,
To expect the end on another year
And safely cross the bridge without a sear,
To a new life in a new day,
Without falling in the mistake of being vain,
Say farewell to this night of the end, Samhain,