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I shouldn't be writing this

It's windy outside.
This city has this special relationship with constant wind and with danger.
I'm high. My friend gives me a ride home and I walk beside the trash truck. Almost like an escape from any danger on the other side of the street.
There is nothing special in this. I always look back, from the corner of the eye. High or sober. Or tired. Very tired.
I feel like having my chest bursting, but I can't seem to be capable of writing down my feelings. What if I started drawing? All over again?
I have plans and ideas for some collages. The same plan I used to have with a story that I have never written again. I have plans to sit in front of the paper with pencils sharpened (even the colouring ones) and just let it flow. Like she said to me too many times, alowing myself to express myself (is this even correct?), even if only with a simple dot.I keep pushing away opportunities. I keep pushing people away.
Don't come that close. Come on! How dare you?I keep my fear. M…
Recent posts

I gotta keep it up more to myself

I shall not write too much.
I shall not speak too much.
I shall not pass too much info to whoever reads or listens to me.
I shall not let my emotions drive my use of words.
I shall not remember white spaces with wet grey floor and strong smell to piss. Or a small building, nearly destroyed, where things happened on a daily basis, that you'd expect them to happen only in movies.
I have to sleep.
I have to log off the Internet, turn off my phone and avoid his phone calls.
I have to exit the streets during the weekend.
He's no boogie man, rather an annoying carnivorous trying to get his meat, decided to take even by force.
I have to sleep.
Good night (I'm sorry for the inconvenience and any possible lack of sense in this text)

I should be less of a bitch

I know, I know. I should be less of a bitchy guy, but what to do?
I know that I am using a dating app, however I have nothing there that tells I am looking for something. People are annoying in the real world and they can be more annoying in the virtual world - in the end, I just want to look at endless profiles and look at endless opportunities that I could take if I were open to that.
I am not.
People bother me even more, the more time passes by. People annoy me and my great desire to move to the countryside, where the possibility to see anyone decreases with the arrival of winter. I want to move to my grand dad's house (he passed away almost seven years ago) and live here for the rest of my life - since I was a little kid I have wanted to and the desire to do so only increases, the more life passes by and the more I deal with people.
I know that I should allow them to come close, but I even want to move to this tiny little place, far from nearly everything and everyone, as I h…

I stand still

My mind was running crazy, while I was in the shower. Perhaps, not crazy in the sense people who know me could think, but still...
My mind and my soul are full of wonders. Longings, desires, incomplete phrases. The same way that our souls are shaped with everything we get throughout our living time, the same way our soul gets the tombs of those corpses we get throughout our very same existence, the same way we choose to carry such wounds, my mind got filled with wonders and wonderful treasures, feeding and keeping a huge empire. Through the times of my life, some tried to steal my treasures, some.others tried to destroy my empire... but I stand still.
I am not good at bringing any news. I am not good ant making comments to what is happening around the globe. I am not good at talking about religion, neither politics. So I stick with making words related to my soul, to my thoughts, to my feelings.
I am far from being OK. I mean, I am not hungry, I am not sick, but... My poor soul. My poor soul who feels this little too much, who goes down on the dark core of those thoughts (yes, yes, I know, over thinking doesn't helps). My poor who feels pleased to swim on the darkest and dirtiest swamps within the forests, within itself. Poor soul who enjoys a little bit too much to dance naked and alone, around a bonfire, almost as a ritual of witchcraft.
I know. There are countless ways to surpass this: seek help, talk to someone, go out for a walk or for a run, go out and meet with friends. Go away. Just go away and leave me alone. And I'll be fine - or maybe not.
I have been really melancholic and gloomy in thoughts in the later times.…

What's wrong with me?

What is wrong with me? What's wrong with how I am feeling? What's wrong with me tonight?  My soul aches, in many different ways possible, but I still don't know why. I still have no idea what brings me to such a mood, what makes me stop in the darkest corners of my mind and of my soul, staying there and touching those old ghosts, embracing them with dry, yet painful, eyes. From times to times, I come back to such doubts, to such pain, to such desires. I'll go to the window, after writing this text, I'll light up a cigarette and look to the same old buildings, the same old starry sky, full of the same old doubts, full of the same old bullshit. I know it's pretty useless, because things won't change, unless I try it hard to make such changes happen.  OK. OK. I feel like I'm not making sense. I feel. Therefore, I think and I think a lot. Too much. It can be overwhelming, the way those feelings affect me. I feel. And what I feel is painful. So much of what…

Unexpected

I didn't expected that. Neither your sudden appearance, nor your proposal to smoke a joint. Through that experience, I did not expected your excitement for smoking with me. I didn't expected either our conversation. Your questions. Or even your words, your sweet, kind words, trying to make me feel good.
I didn't expected, buddy, that it turned out to be such a spiritual thing without entering on spiritual levels. And yet, you've made it. You've gone deep within my thoughts, my beliefs, touching on issues that I am always avoiding. For the very first time in a long time, you've asked questions that left me uncomfortable, that made me think what would have I chosen on different days, you've made me think... Think on so many things, that I avoid to think on.
It's been messing with me. It's been messing with my mind. And although it's good that I am forced to think and to feel uncomfortable until it becomes comfortable again, it's not good on my…

I keep running. I keep hiding.

I'm still running. I'm still hiding. There are no reasons to run away, there are no reasons to hide, but I still do so. One. Two. Three. I look away and there's nothing I can see. I'm still running away. I'm still hiding away. And while I run, and while I hide, I look for the immense danger, I look for the immense adrenaline. I want him, one more time; him, who have had the pleasure of my body; him, who after pissing me off and making me telling him to stop and forced me to take him inside of me. I want to feel him, one more time... two more times... I want to feel and the lust and the madness of a full moon howling, in the streets of the city. I walk down the dark and cold streets (I'm glad that I've mentioned them) and I look back, after listening to what seemed like a weep. Cats fighting or breeding a few more of them. They make strange noises, in the dark and cold streets, while they face each others. And I look back, because it might be the killer tha…

Too much drama, madness and the need to enjoy myself

It doesn't matters where else do I write. It doesn't really matters where else have I written before - for a long time, I have been writing here, on this blog and this has been said, by myself, as being my origin as a writer of blogs. It's not my intention to be famous. It has never been. I have always written to myself, for myself and no one else.
I have a blog in Portuguese, that came as a joke of a friend of mine and it feels really good and really therapeutic to write in my mother language. However, it doesn't feels enough. It's never enough and after a few years of writing there, I have decided to get myself another blog, on a Portuguese blogging platform. There, I came to see some neat blogs and it's a pleasure to read what some people have to say. There, I came to see some bloggers to which I feel connected, because of the darkness within them (e já não me sinto tão só! ). Also there, I came across some drama, of so called bloggers who seem to have nothi…

Men

Photographs and what nots

I used to love to photograph stuffs. Even with the weakest of the cameras, I uses to hold some memories so close to the screen of a computer or so close as to a physical photography. I don't photograph that much nowadays. In a world where everyone has a camera in their phones, it feels strange and awkward to start photographing the world or even the people around me. Or maybe, I don't have the right people around me to photograph people. Or the surroundings aren't exactly the ones I'd like to have in a memory.
During my life, I also used to make some X-rated photographs and videos of myself. Nowadays, whenever a picture of that is taken for "sexting" or even for a specialthing, I get those pictures deleted. Don't ask me why, especially with so many males (and even females), who keep those kinda pictures on their phones, on their Twitters or Tumblrs, but if feels awkward, the same exact way it feels awkward to photograph the world around me.
I have no id…

It hasn't been a good night (it's been a while)

I have written a bit tonight. Right at the beginning of the day, here I am, still awaken and putting some words down in my blogs.
It has been a while. My soul hasn't been properly into writing, lately. There have been too many things going on, especially through the last year, that one we barely left behind and almost one month has gone.
Yesterday, hasn't been exactly a good day. I woke up in a bad mood. I have written about this already, on another blogs, but it would have been my grand dad's birthday, if he was alive. A happy and remarkable day for me, until it was replaced by the emptiness of his death, back in 2010. When these days pass by, I always catch myself wondering if this is what life has to give us: a bit of joy, a bit of satisfaction, but then... Nothing else, but death, emptiness, sadness... We have some happy moments, but that's all about: little happy moments, until they're taken from us, as a child's taken from his mother's arms.
I get my…

Never enough

I have been searching for something. I am always searching for something, I am always looking for something, eventhough it seems I am never able to find what I am looking for. It doesn't matters!
It has been a while since I have written anything here. And eventhough I am trying to put some lines on here, I am still not sure of what I want to write about. I have started a new blog, last year, that has been deleted and restarted. Doesn't it sounds crazy? It's there and I try to write something daily and I never cease to amaze myself on the amount of shit I write. And yes, it is literal shit, although the users of the same platform say that they love my writings, that they can feel what I feel, that they can feel their own life and their own thoughts in my words. However, it's not enough. It' never enough.

I can't stop thinking about that time that I have decided to edit my diaries - they have had too many pages and lines and thoughts thrown to the garbage. There…

Karunesh - Arabian Nights

Five minutes of an amazing music.
New Age, Chillout.
Feel free to search more musics. This artist is well worth it.