Something you don't want to know as most of who do either can't or don't want to forget.

My hand itches whenever I read an old story.

Strict fantasy in its most realistic form.

I knock on wood too, but of these days unpolished wooden surfaces get damn hard to find.

Guiltily glad.

She knows where it will lead her. There is no way that bitter taste can let her forget why she keeps on doing that. For some sorts of pain are just able to ease others.

In the end, she's nothing more than a(n) (in)conscious moth. And her new friend, the heatless flame.

Centrípeta em legato
Permissivo demasiado
Azul, Espiral

Cheiro de mangas e de cristais
Tatuada
Quis, o Chão queima

Três, Sete, Dez com Onze
desrolha deixa Repete
Maculando

Convergente linha ponto
Era uma a vez
bem Me soa

Passou-me ao lado teu linguarejo. Bastaram o asco e a repulsa em teu rosto estampados, o dedo acusador apontando indiscretamente.
Teatro gratuito num aeroporto. Mulher, sei que não é bonito. Agradeço, todavia, a lembrança.