Pride overcomes whenever pain subsides.

(or:

Curiosity killed the cat, only this time it didn't hurt much and she's still alive.)

There's nothing to lie about when there's nothing to tell.

Gosto do três e do sete
De sombras ao sol quando chove
Dormir sem sonhar e adiar a madrugada
Sou no preto mar e prata
Lua jazz e uma janela
Noite espaço noite tudo e ninguém
Temo a caneta demais uso a borracha
Contudo chá livros chamas
Ou o bonsai que ainda já não comprei
Ora agora ora por mim
Tagarelam desígnios só vontades
Desconheço por ora no que agora sinais
Espero nos passos ocres e mirra
Pois sou no preto mar e prata
Voltar sem ir lua jazz e uma janela

It takes digging to get to know what's underground.

Caem rosas à flor das águas
Meu amor caem rosas no mar
Ondeiam negras nessas águas
E sete vezes te hão-de chorar

Guardei-t’as sete cravado de mágoas
Meu amor guardei-tas por te amar
Ondeiam no eterno dessas águas
Exauro agora em seu desfolhar

Caem rosas à flor das águas
Meu amor na promessa desse mar
Caem mortas sete mágoas
Meu amor somos um só afundar


_
Poema: Paulo

Fairness' a bitch anyway, so why can't it just whore itself to everybody like it's supposed to?

Have you stabbed a strawberry today?

Bright lights flicker on the horizon as the city rests in a deep slumber. Dreams come and go as they please while nightmares lurk around, startling the souls that seek solace in their apparent meanings. High above no stars shine. Tonight the sky is held together by clouds and rain pouring into the ground that is still warm from too many feet, too fast, too slow. A porcelain mug rests on the windowsill, dusty curtains and unclear glass wide open to welcome the peaceful joy within the breeze that ripples the cooling tea. Autumn leaves get carried away with the flow, erratic patterns drawn over the slowly forming wastelands that were once unkept gardens and are now treasured memories.

Two bodies had once been on their grass, clothes scattered around as if nobody would ever see. Sunset oranges had yet to become crimson, so there they had laid as if it had just become morning, tangled and sweaty and worn and aching, even breaths and way too meaningful scents. “Catch me. I'm falling.” Those pools had shone bright right then. Not just two bodies on the grass.

I'm sorry.