Death and Compassion
From when does an act count as treason? From when is it wrong to love him? From when should you step back and sip death as a gift? Since when do we know that loving her would have been better than killing her inside? When does the safety of an Emperor cease to be important? From when does the war that is brought as a mission cease to be important? From the defiant and tormenting battleground of love. She was in the royal guard. He was a diplomat who did not bring diplomacy between states. She was a warrior. He was a servant to himself. The fight started. Regret overcame them, but there is no turning back.
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Closer To The Edge 30 Seconds To Mars I don't remember the moment I tried to forgetI lost myself is it better not saidNow I'm cl...
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"Every step I left behind Every road you know is mine Walking the ten story line Say you'll still be by my side" - Beautiful Crime - Tamer /> A man is unjustly convicted of heinous crimes, and the only way to not pay for them... is to commit them. The system has been corrupted. There is no mercy in revenge. And LOLA is the only hope.
Once in my life I broke all the rules of the regulation... and I was happier than all the rest of my previous life. It is clear that all the immeasurable flame has now become a simple illumination sufficient to pass well the rest that I lack. Evaluating this way, it seems that I narrate a fact of my youth, when I am already an old person, whose clock is the best and worst enemy. No, I'm young, but I no longer set fire to the rain, or run aimlessly for the wind to take my sorrows away. This time I broke the rules and I was happy, I did like Lisbela (Lisbela and the Prisoner), I burned my whole life at once to live intensely, and today I tell you my story, I show you how I followed my life after the watershed that made me what I am and inspired, directly or indirectly, 16 of my 25 short stories published (on this site) and two more paper novels, apart from the assaults that affect me, sudden ideas, fleeting dialogues and unlikely scenarios. As most often, it is dedicated to I.L. , but not because I still love, but because I will always love US.
Ele se lembra de tudo. Da mãe, dos dias com Clara, das coisas que disse e das que deixou passar. Mas lembrar já não parece suficiente. Entre objetos guardados e uma carta inesperada, ele procura algo que ainda seja capaz de fazer diferença.
Coletânea de textos/anotações/poesias, sem conexões entre si, sem pretensão de ser algo de fato impressionante. Todos escritos entre 2015 e 2019. Com muitor amor. Na verdade, não. Não contém muito amor aqui, só magoas de forma predominante.
Eu sinto da liberdade que não me têm sempre que olho para ele. Ele é meu último pedaço de liberdade, nele eu posso me encontrar. Ele tem a versão mais nua da minha alma na palma de suas mãos.
O relacionamento já acabou, mas continua sendo ensaiado todos os dias. Um teatro póstumo, sustentado por gestos automáticos e um repertório infindável de pequenas violências.