Sunday, December 28, 2014

Checking out

I have been checking what my Google Plus account has. I have been checking who is on people that I might know, due to who I have in common, here and there. This isn't the only confuse account I have online - even my real life is somewhat of confuse.
I am bringing up some stuffs of m,y soul that are no good for readers or viewers -  they are good to calm down my soul. In the matter that I need of my own mess to feel a bit more "calm and satisfied", something that seems to be a nearly impossible task. Nothing calms me down. Nothing satisfies me.
And I will die a madened man with a madened soul and mind.

Friday, December 05, 2014

I miss everything

I miss people that have no idea of how much I do miss them.
I see people that have no idea of how much do they annoy me.
I deal with people that have no idea of how much do I despise them.
The man sitting by side stinks and pushed my chair twice (I'll keep some of the thoughts for me or I would be accused of racism). The man sitting by my side annoys me with his smell. The man by side annoys me by the simple fact of being sitting by my side.
I am trying to get over some of my feelings - some of the people have already realized what do I feel about them and have learned to leave the shit out of me alone; others simply seem to be such idiots and to insist on formulas cursed from the very beggining. C'mon, are you that dumb?! Are you that idiot, that you wouldn't realize that you are annoying me or do you feel that good by leaving so pissed off, that all my answers are going to be incisive, for you and for everyone around me?! Even you, my sweet friend, even you are always insisting on old and humilitiang jokes? Why is that? Do I have to accept, like you're always claiming, to be humiliated in front of everyone? Do I have to accept it as a joke, like you're always saying, as you're continuosly humiliating me?
No one understands what moves me: I just want to be left alone. Soon, if things go well, I'll leave this wicked place and very, very few people are going to see me ever again. No one understands me and, honestly, I want to leave you thinking of me like a nice stranger, instead of the good ol' friend, who you had fun of, who you humiliated as many times as you wanted to, just to feel much better with yourself.
I miss people. I miss places. I miss my life before all this. I miss my childhood. I miss my dreams. I miss my hopes. I miss everything before the shit has hitted the fan!

Monday, November 24, 2014

Whatever I could have wanted to do or to say...

Yep! Yep! That's right, gentlemen!
Fuck it all!
That's all I have to say right now!

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

A sea of umbrellas

I went to do some necessary shoppings. It rains hard outside and the river near my house is almost dropping out. The wild ducks found safety on the grass.
I hate to walk in seas of umbrellas - don't get me wrong, I love the rain and rainy days, both to walk outside and to stay at home doing anything pleasant enough for, I just hate have to walk a bit more slowly due to some people who seem to be naturally slow.
Almost one month has passed by since a friend of purs has died and that has been the hell of a quick month. In the meantime, my mother has fell on her job and have had to stay at home since then. My mental sanity hasn't been the best, but I am putting an effort on staying well. I have been doing the somewhat of my part-time job in the cafe where I used to be a regular costumer for the last almost eight years (8 years?! Ha! I'm getting old here, peeps).
The last times have been rough ones for my writings and for my drawings - yes, I am drawing again! I try, I start writing a few new lines, but then it unpleases me. Even now, sitting on a barely empty cafe, it's gets hard, as new person I know arrives and greets me or a random costumer here asks me for the newspaper lyin by my side in the table. I am typing, putting an effort into it, though. I am not allowed many more mistakes or failures. From now on, I am only allowed the sucess and I not succeeding.
My mood hasn't been the best, but I have learned to keep to myself what I feel or think. Even when Death (Oh! Great Glorious, thou shalt keep me 'till they're passed away) crosses my mind, I keep shut and quiet within me. I write about it and that's it. More than putting an effort on writing, I also need to put such effort on what type of writings do I want to do - people shall not know my more sensitive side, my greatest desires.
A sea of umbrellas is outside and I am working on getting brave enough to cross it again. Back home. Later on, I'll have to return here to have a bica (a portuguese name for coffee, expresso) and to work and that'll be more than enough for me. I am getting too tired of some lifestyles of my own and that's why I am working towards a change - night walks under the rain aren't that usual now; night walks without a destinations, only with my instinct driving me, aren't usual anymore; staying around with people who continuosly bother me, who continuosly annoy me, just to have some company and stay outside my house for a few more hours... that's no longer happening. I have been cutting off with some friends who were constant sources of problems and irritations, friends who mattered not with me, the way I worried about them. I have been cuttng off with those who smiled at me, but who were constantly speaking about me on my back (one of them, only would call me when no one else were around around and that has been the giy who pointed that to me. He also said that I was a bad influence and that people should stop hanging around with me).
I am tired of shit. I am tired of shitty people and I am just up to keep close those who I can count on, the same exact way they can count on me. I am up to keep close those who are real friends and not occasional companies.
A sea of umbrellas and a rainy day.
I have been thinking on spending a little money buying a small notebook - I know, I haven't written, but just to be sure... but that's a whortless thought, as quite possibly I will keep the money and the notebook will stay on the shop's shelf.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

In the edge of the world

I am running to the edge of the world. Running to a very lonely place, where there is no one to look at, no one to talk to.
I am crossing the line of boredom and apathy. It matters not. Not anymore. People can't see the pain hiding behind my eyes. People can't understand my actions. It matters not. I am running to the edge of the world... alone! All alone!
I am the pain of lonelines and the loneliless in pain. Who am I?! What the fuck am I?! Nothing, but ash and dust; nothing but dust and ash.
I have been struggling with my feelings and with my need to write / type anything down. It took my almost one month to face the reality of the death of a friend (I cried when I got the new, I have cried in the funeral, but not I am realizing that I'll never ever see him again). It took me a lot of struggling to be able to sit down, quiet and peacefully, listening to my precious artists (or to some of them) and to finally managing to write down anything. It took me so much pain and despair and even later on, I don't have any guarantee that I will be able to write any poem or anything at all.
I am running to the edge of the world. And the edge of the worl is a very lonely place. It's even lonelier when we choose our own loneliness.
Let me vanish in the night and to sing my sad lullabies.
I'll turn into the God I dreamed I was. Once in a while, they're still living and praying in front of old temples and statues. Once in a while, they're still looking for my comfort. The same comfort that I am unable to give to myself. But, once in a while, they're still seeking for my own despair. They want as much pain and despair as they can get, so that they can get the feeling of being alive. This is kind of a very masochist way of living, but that is what I do to myself. Why would be my characters any different of me?!
And my poetry?! What about the feelings I continuosly say that I despise, such as love, but I keep writing about them?! May this be what I am unconsciously seeking?!
I am running to the edge of the world. I am vanishing. I feel lost and trapped on a very evil and twisted game. Maybe, somewhere in this cosmos or in any other dimension, a very, very mean God is playing twisted games, testing His Holy colours or pens.
I am running to the edge of the world and soon I might fall into the great and dark abyss.

Sunday, November 16, 2014

Wealthy, Luxurious, whatever...

[...]All I see are signs, all I see are Dollar signs [...] Rihanna "Pour It Up"
I have "faced" a message on FetLife from a user who felt offended by my comment to his picture of his BMW car. He said that it was quite offensive to say that it's not needed to be rich or wealthy to have a car alike. It is an high maintenance car, so yes, it's needed to be wealthy or luxurious.
About the other part of the message, that he does respects my (homo)sexuality but that he doesn't takes any compliments from men. I need to ask why is he on a Fetish website, with his pictures unlocked for everyone to see. He and countless other guys who are around here and keep saying that they don't want comments from men. It is quite easy to lock your pictures for your friends only to see or comment on your pictures. In fact, it's easier than on Facebook, more effective and even faster. There's surely the reason that you don't want to lose the ladies comments and  understand that... just do not complain when you are showing off to the world and then receive any kind of comments from men or from people who love the same brand of cars but that aren't wealthy enough to afford to buy and to maintain them.

This serves the purpose oly to entertain my mind and to avoid to reply to such message, that has been deleted right away.

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Why would I care?

To some people, it's hard to understand others' lives. It's not their business, but they keep fussin around, trying to know what's going on, what others are doing and why. I am always affraid and ashamed at some parts of my personality: I get nasty and kinky from times to times, I "hang" around some websites that if some people could see them, would judge, criticize and speak the shit out of their mouths.
Shit out your brain and leave empty your skulls: they'll be the ornamentations of my dungeons. Speak all the shit you have to speak, as you try to figure out what I am typing about, I don't care. For 20 people who judge and criticize me and my life, there's one person in my life, loving me for being who I am, exactly the way I am and those are the people who really matter.
Why am I writing such entry? Maybe because I am no longer on FetLife with this same nickname (AngelAlucard) and maybe because I am wearing the nickname of porn and disgrace that I've proposed to myself for porn. For every line of gay erotica and porn-aphernalia that I've typed and that I've deleted later, thinking on what woul the others think and say. I have never been the kind of person to worry too much on what others would say or think, so why would this matter now??

Monday, October 20, 2014

Fame and Fortune, Family and Friends

I am back to The Alterium, the website for the alternative. The same goes for the fetish / BDSM oriented website where I was also at. I got them deleted, because I started thinking of the serious possibility of sudden fame & fortune. What would happen if that famous artist of any kind (me) were discovered in such places. The same thought has gone through Facebook and Twitter, but this was more because of family and some acquaintances... I did started a new Facebook account and started to change some settings on it. I have started to change the settings on Twitter, but I would be possibly still there, change settings, writing on my profiles, doing the whole demanding thing, without having the time to do whatever has pleased me the most.
Well, screw them.
About whatever I do online, not everyone needs to know the links or the reasons that led me here or there about family, they have put themselves in the position of strangers, where they have no reason or the right to an opinion about my life. About certain friends and acquaintances... who are they to judge me? I am not giving links, I am not telling the to go ahead and check me out, to check out those naked pictures that I used to have there, but I am not denying or hiding that I am here or there, doing this or that. It's my life and it's all about me and my-sweet-self.
Whatever others say or imagine, it's with them.
I want to live it all at my very own way. I don't want to have to hide much more than I've hidden through my whole life.
So I am back to both websites and I will need to wait at least two weeks before I can attach my e-mail account to my Facebook again. My regular e-mail account is used for everything: for this blog, for Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, both other websites that I have mentioned. I have another e-mail account, yahoo, connected to gmail, because of my blog with my dearest penfriend, Erin. And I still have a third and secret e-mail account for porn. I have thought about using this fourth e-mail account (this one for porn, you know?), that is also attached to gmail, to get my accounts back. Being paranoid is not as easy or as cool as some people might think.

Fame and Fortune, that people crave. I'd crave for Fortune only. Fame appears to steal too many stuffs from people's lives.
I wouldn't be able to smoke my joints in the streets. I wouldn't be able to do my night walks, with undesired company or even on my own. I wouldn't be able to hunt for night lovers or even t show to that friend of mine that I am into him.
So I wish I only had the Fortune. And the Fortune would carry me on a black carriage, pulled by black horses through the city at night. I would smoke, as I was looking through the dark glasses of the carriage, seing people amazed, thrilled or even freaked out looking the the black passing carriage pulled by six or eight black horses. The passing cars wouldn't be important at all. And maybe even yours' would stop to stare at this scenery.
And you, my newest "friend", who I'm into. You'd be naked and tied inside my carriage and  would use and abuse of you throut the night streets of the city.
I am back... with all my madness!

Saturday, October 11, 2014


I was walking down the streets, I could the see the very dark clouds in the horizon. I thought: "it seems that a thunderstorm is on the way" and in the immediate next second, the lightning ripped the sky. The rain falls outside and I'm just sitting on a barely empty Internet Indian shop. A black man types in his computer, in the other corner of the store, while the two Indian men are speaking between themselves.
The changes have started not too long ago. But there's so much needing to be changed yet. Like the thunderstorm took it time to reach the sky of the city, I'll need my own time to make and improve the necessary changes. Right now, I only have to please myself online, the way it really pleases me the most.

Friday, October 10, 2014

Maybe we'll remember

Maybe this will help you to remember where did you came from.
Maybe this will remember you where have you been in the meantime.
Maybe through the musics I am sharing with you, you'll feel my presence close to you. My spirit will travel next to yours, it'll hug you and tell you: "everything will be just OK!". Or maybe my spirit is wiser than my body and my mind and it'll stay in silence.

I do want to believe that I am growing mature in my way of dealing with people and with the world. I do want to believe that I am growing mature on my relationship with myself and with my art and with what I do like and enjoy. But it always takes time. It always takes the time of out-growing of all the fears and insecurities, of all those negative people in our lives.

Maybe this'll help us both to remember where did we came from and to where we're walking to.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Too much going on my soul... too much to be done...

Is there any kind of medicine to let go of such feelings? Is there anything out there to help me through this madness? Is there anything at all?

I just deleted that stupid third blog. It was there, doing nothing. I still need to take some time to edit all those that I have. Too many mistakes that need to be corrected. Too many things that need to be deleted.

I can't be bothered to think about everything that needs to be done now. I have so much to think about. There is just too much going on my soul...

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

I don't dance

I went out last night. I went out, dragged by an older and crazy woman, who keeps repeating that I am her best friend. If I really were her best friend, she wouldn't endanger my stuatin at home, by dragging me out a whole night and still trying to take me to placeswhere drug is dealed on every corner of the streets. After a whole night in discos, I left her in a cab in the middle of Lisbon and walked alone and fucked up to the closer train station to come home. I went t have a coffee at the gas station, before heading hme and finding my mother fuming like a dragon and almost threatening to beat me. If only she were able to try.
In the discos, in the middle of Cais do Sodré, I saw people dancing. Then again, I was feeling lost and not suiting on it. People dance and lose themselves to dance. People try to conquer others through the dance. When the look at me, I turn my face aside in disgust and despise. I don't care about them. I wouldn't go, like she wanted to, wth any of them to home. There are easier and faster ways to get fucked.
I don't dance. I don't like to be in the middle of the dance floor. I don't like to be surrounded by people. I enjoy nights out in my corner. I do enjoy to stay hidden, watching others dancing and jumping around. I need to watch them and to keep my eyes open for any possible danger.
I don't dance. I do not relax that much to dance. I am always aware of what I am doing.
Do not call me to dance. Do not stick others' attention over me, as you try to pull me to dance and I keep avoiding you and your dance.
You feel young. You are young. My body is 27 years old. My soul is 270. Or even older. I am not the kind of person one would want or desire. I don't want or desire myself either.
The night felt longer. Almost like if I have spent a whole week inside those wicked discos. One gay disco. One disco of rock music. One disco of reggae. People, people, people... a fucking city, full of people.
I don't dance.
I want to go away. I want to move to the village where my grandparents used to live. It's almost desert. No disco, no music, barely no people...
I don't dance!

Monday, September 15, 2014

No plans, no dreams...

I was planning to do a few stuffs with the money that I have gotten from my aunt yesterday (she's actually my mum's aunt). At first, I thought about saving it to get a new phone from a different network operator, but it would take me a while to get the necessary money. Then, I thought i would send out a few letters. After that, I thought about keeping the money for as long as possible. But as you already know, I am not trustwhorty when it comes about making plans and keeping up with what I have previously planned. So I have bought a bunch of paper, four coloured pens that I'll use on my letters and I am sending away, at least one of three packages that I have left in my room and that should have been previously sent.
Now, after a crazy night with a terrible dream (that has started as a pornographic stuff), after a terrible fright in the streets, that almost caused me an heart attack, here I am, writing down, as I haven't done in a while. When I was walking down the streets of the city, I thought that I wouldn't plan anything. Then again, it would be useless and pointless - we all know on what it would end up.

So I have decided to stop planning everything and anything. I am just letting go of all this madness and enjoy stuffs the way they are and the way they appear to be. I am not going to plan anything in the closer times. I know it's just a waste of time and plans always tend to seem cursed from the beggining.

I know that I should arrive home earlier, mum. I also know that I should be working to have a good life, but I am far from being the perfect son that you've possibly dreamt of. I am nothing of what you or anyone might dream of.
I know that I should leave the streets aside, to live my life in a different way. I know that i should work on getting it all fixed and less troubled up. But I am naturally troubled up: haven't all those stuffs taught you anything?
I am going on dreams and fantasies of sex, lust with little pieces of love: like chocolate in the top of cookies. And the targets of my affections are always the wrong ones. The target of my obsession is always the one who cares not and the one who will never ever be mine.

Maybe one day, I will walk in silence... ashes in the air... the rain of stars... and death, fear, dreams, fantasies, pain will all be just distant memories!

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Flying high on doubts...

What's left of my sanity?!
What's left of all my madness?!
Where are my castles?! My towers and my knights?! Where's my Empire??!!
Why do I see so much smoke?! Where is the fire?!
What happened to the woods?! Why there are so many buildings?! Are they forts?!

I need to calm down my spirit. I need to let go of all this madness. I need to let go of my curses and my wounds. I need to calm my demons down. I need to stop being a paranoid asshole...  I don't know how to be, if not myself. I don't know to where I belong. I need to leave the night spirits of the city. I need to get over their spells.

Where are my familiar faces, without secrets and lies? Where are my familiar streets? Where will all this end?

And now I have no idea...

I'm just flying high!

Saturday, July 19, 2014


I am feeling a little bit better today, but still not well.
I am feeling like if I could write down this world and the other one, but still won't be doing that. Not today.
While I was walking the streets of my city, I saw your car passing by. I saw the shadow of my past passing through and I have just realised how way more powerful I am compared to you. You own your car, your house, the girls / boys you want to due to your money, due to the money that you've conquered through your hard work in a foreign country. Within my soul and in my writings, I own and I possess you. Your love is mine, it doesn't matters if you truly desire anyone else.
I have been thinking about re-start writing moe than just poetry. I have been thinking about drawing / painting again and all my mistakes are the best inspiration.
If things go as planned, I will be commiting some of the old mistakes and it'll feel good... until guilt hits me so had, like before...
I am going madened and my imagination is returning me the old places I have been on.
I am wanting and I am walking to that.
Desire without action is useless. And it's even more useless to complain for the lack of results, when the action is lacking as well.
I take the energy of the trees to heal me. The streets of the city are the dungeon where I am trapped and are the chains that I am breaking... slowly, very slowly, but I am woking on that. And I starting to feel powerful once again. I am spreading my wings and allowing myself to fly away. I will get my own internet soon, as I expect to and then I will be watching anime and porn and all the stuffs that have always made me dream and fantasize. And then, I won't be stopped.

Friday, July 18, 2014


I am not feeling very well today. It seems that a nuclear reactor is about to explode inside my head and my throat is hurting. The wicked weather here is still mad and it turned cloudy, still too hot, what has made my back to give me the sign of pain. Since yesterday that I'm complaining about my left elbow and there have been some stuffs on the place where I am working on that have possibly contributed to this. Now, I am siting in the cyberstore, trying to get concentrated on writing it here and the yelling child has just left.
Nope, things aren't that good. plus, my teeth keep bothering me and from times to times my face flats like a balloon: sometimes it's painful, others it is just bothering, what's the case in this very moment.
i wish and crave for something else, but my baby, small and tiny steps aren't being enough. what has started not too long ago, seems to not be enough and I still need to work harder. I keep having ideas on what to do to improve all this crappy situation and it still seems way too far from my reach.
I want to be more positive about the stuffs... but today is not the day...

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Danny Barson Photography

As you people know, from times to times, I do upload a picture or two (or ten!!!) and I do add a link to a Facebook page or to a website. From times to times, I do find out a page that I like off quite much and I do a little free advertisement here.
I won't be uploading any picture today, but I am adding the link to Danny Barson's Facebook photography page and to his website (just click on the words).
Before I do close this entry, I do want to write a few words expressing my opinion about this man's work, the responsible for the pictures of my sweet British buddy, Stuart Max, whose pictures you have possibly seen on this blog. Danny Barson does some photographs of both female and mostly male models. Different models, different backgrounds and one thing in common: a very good work quality, worthing the time spent in front of a computer, a tablet or a mobile phone watching his pictures. When it comes to females, he can make them look sweet and provocative. He enhances their natural beauty and makes us wonder... good work, man!
Now, about males (and this is quite different here). Men with their naturally arrogant looks do never lose their touch of masculinity. But manly men, with sweet soft looks can be brought down to a position of submission. They still look manly, but they seem to be submited to the lenses of Danny's camera. And that is something I do need to applaude!
* please, note that all these lines reflect my own opinion and not somebody's else. In a recent chat with Danny, he told me that if I wanted to use any of his pictures, to let him know and he would see if I could or not. Before giving that further step, I have decided to write this entry!

Sunday, June 22, 2014


There's this penFRIEND of mine, Erin, whom I write a blog with. This is our confessional. I have shared one or another entry of this blog on my Facebook and on my Twitter, but not anymore. This place is called "Digital Confessions" and there we write stuffs that we wouldn't write anywhere else (I should keep my mouth shut off, but Twitter and Tumblr's for Porn don't count).
I am writing a few stuffs. Not exactly artistic stuffs, but it happens that I am writing some stuffs down to paper and I have written it on our "Confessional". There are stuffs that I feel that are too risky to be writing them down here or on the other blog. There are too many stuffs that I wouldn't want to risk to have some recent people in my life reading them and discovering the way they are affecting me.
This is a very simple thing. Quite simple. Quite fast. I just wanted to write something on here... I am at my aunt's and she and my mother are in a hurry. It's also my aunt'a birthday and I didn't wanted to go to the cafe, though I am going there to watch some soccer later on. It's closed, but Pedro's opening it to a restrict group, where I am included.
I just wanted to write something down here, although it doesn't has much quality and there's nothing too much to be said.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014


I am insatisfied with my life and with many things that are part of it. Even people keep me insatisfied. They appear to be some nasty hypocrites. Not all of them, for sure, but there areway many people whom I wasn't expecting such behaviours from them. Let them be.
My life is stuck on self-comiseration. I don't do, I won't go for it and fight and then I weep and complain. Sad, sadistic-masochistic and idiot. I know, I know. I am writing about the same for months, but it is much easier to stay at home, in my safe little corner, than going out and face the reality, face the possibility to get a "NO" anywhere. I need to move my idiot ass, otherwise I will have my life stuck on this forever.
The same goes for relationships. Some of the people who know me are fed up with my ideas against any kind of relationship. I don't feel like being able to get attached to someone more than in a basis of friendship... it doesn't goes any further. About sex... when it comes to sex, I am the kind of guy who's there as a "one-night-stand-dude". I am honest about that and I am also honest about having nothing else but sexual satisfaction to offer (and about wanting to get nothing, but sexual satisfaction). People still argue with me, trying to make me get over this, but it's impossible. Everyone, without an exception, ends this line of conversation with their waiver. They turn back to that conversation with me, to never ever come back on this matter. And then, I am online trying to get strangers to have a "one-night-stand-texting" too. There are things I don't do and don't speak with friends. There are things that I say to strangers I'll never ever will listen from ever again. And this stupid behaviour feels so good and so right...
I ripped off the pages of ALL my old notebooks. I want to hand-write all these years again. All those poems, although I am throwing the pages of diaries away (and I am even considering about finding a way to burn it all away). I want to edit my blogs, make the fusion between some of them, correct some mistakes, delete some entries... I keep putting excuses and I never do anyting.
What am I waiting for? For the death of those dearest of mine to arrive and to get myself completely alone? Because their death appears as a very real possibility in front of my eyes and it scares the hell out of me. I want to avoid thinking about this...
I need to stop looking to the sky as if any chance or my escape were falling from there. I need to move. I need to hurry up, because everyone's living their life, moving ahead and I am not leaving the same place.
I need to re-discover myself. And from there, I'll reach the sky.

Monday, June 09, 2014

Chasing questions countless times

What do I have to say? What do I want to do?
The whole world is too busy living their wicked and insane lives, that they don't even have time to enjoy. They do not enjoy their favorite musics, they do not enjoy the view of the night sky in the city.
What do I need to do?
What are the answers to countless questions that I might have and despite that, I am unable to write them down?
What do I need to do to let go of these thoughts and desires?
And in the end, I think it is useless to struggle with all these questions. They'll always haunt me. And I'll be chasing the dust of an a dead day forever, if I keep chasing these answers countless times.

Friday, June 06, 2014

It rains outside

It rains and I am nothing.
I am nothing but a dream... I am nothing but a shadow that no one notices about.
It rains outside and I am just that little joint of madeness. It rains and the smoke has vanished.
It rains outside and the whole world seems to burst into tears.
I am want more. I want so much more. And the more I get, the less I feel.
I need to let go of all this madness. I need to let go of such feelings. I need to vanish away...
There's nothing left that I could get proud of. There's nothing that I have really done, something that could leave my mark there. There's nothing valuable enough... it'll all vanish... and die...
Sun shine, little lie,
the branches of the trees dancing with the wind,
the lies vanishing in the laughs of the city
and may the sin be what keeps us comforted
and may it keep us satisfied
and never, ever guilty!

Saturday, May 31, 2014


image taken from:
I am taking some looks back. I saw one commercial in the bus stop and it made me think about the past. And the happy past tends to make me think a little bit too much. And the happy past makes me wish to disappear. "You sweared that you would be friends forever. Remember that!" was the phrase that was in that commercial. I remember about those who haven't made that promise, but that, at the time we used to be together, it seemed like if we were staying together forever.
And it hasn't been forever... and things are a bit way too different.

Saturday, May 24, 2014

The Inked Boys

This is the kind of entries that I write with the purpose to advertise for a page. This page doesn't needs any advertisement: open it up and you will see why! :)
I am sharing these images: I have previously written an entry to do this kind of advertisement, but I have seen some newer specimen of men in it and I think it needs to be shared somewhere else! :) I hope you enjoy the males I have choosen to share!
Courtesy of The Inked Boys!

Sunday, May 18, 2014

I've seen you!!!

I have seen you. I have seen you in your car. And you've seen me too.
I've seen you and I've hurried my steps. There are feelings involved. Of course that are, but I fear. I fear you. I fear your power over me. I fear all the thingsd that can come out of all this madness.
I want to let go of all this madness, but there's no place to escape to. I want to let go of all this fearing poison, but there's no place to run from you. And in the end, I want to die in your arms, by your hands... over your naked body...
I've seen you... and I am anxious about the day I'll see you again...

Saturday, May 10, 2014

Things could be much better

Image taken from here:
I look around. I look at people in my life. I take a glimpse at my own life and then I decide to close my eyes, once again. My life is screwed up on so many levels, that I tend to close my eyes to it. I don't want to look anymore. And people... Oh!, some of them are seing their life getting messed up too. Not because of me, but some are counting with me... for good advises and comforting words. But there aren't comforting words when the situations have been created out of stupidity and irresponsability. Such as when it has been with me.
Saturday in the afternoon. I do want to think that I'll have a great day tomorrow. Supposedly, I am going to the beach and spend a whole day and night out. There are going to be good friends there. There is going to be a long day in the sun, embraced by nature. But still my relationship with my mother isn't the best. I know I will have another very strong argument beggining between us. And it is all due to my own stupidity. Where are the bad words and the pissed off look that I need?? No back slaps, but the wise and good needed words; where are they?
Things could be so much better. But they're not. And once in a while, I'm not wanting to look to the brightest side of things. Let me be. I'll be better. But I am fucked up at the moment!

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Alternative Lifestyles

Image taken from -
I am still hanging around.
I'm still looking for other places where I do can find anything suitable for my thoughts. I still look through alternative websites, for alternative people. Goths, emos, punks, skinheads... people from the underworld... I'm still trying to find a place where I do suit. I'm still looking to find somewhere to get my perfect lover. That lover that'll understand my desires and that perhaps will follow me.
I am still taking glimpses at naked men in alternative websites. I'm still taking glimpses at goth boys, punk men... I look at their lifestyle. I take glimpses at their old boots. I take glimpses at their physical beauty (or the lack of it) and I still do feel like if I could get the world from them.
I'm still taking glimpses at what I get. I'm still taking glimpses at the things that I've been building around me and out of me. I'm still wanting to change some stuffs. I'm still needing to let go of my madness.
I am still taking glimpses...
and that's all I get out of the alternative desires...

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Live, love and do not forget!

Live, love and do not forget.
Live crazy, don't look back and never regret!
Love deeply, laugh loud for your jokes and let them be!
Do not forget where did you came from, do not forget what you've been through and go further.
What they say is with them.
What you do is with you.
And who you are... it's about yourself!

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Not too highed... not sobber either...

I just came from the cafe. And while walking down the avenue, I was trying to decide which name to give to this entry. I was planning things to write. It happens quite often, as it also happens often that I end up not writing anything that I've planned to.
I haven't decided what to write. I haven't decided to use this title. It happens that this is the truth.
I have had a few stuffs inside my mind in the last few days. There are stuffs that have been trapped inside my mind since the I last came to this shop to use the computer and the Internet. So many things are happening in the world and there are so many things bothering me.
We all know about the consequences of the global warming. But they are very noticeable in Portugal at this moment. beaches are way smaller than they were about 25 years ago. In Winter, the beaches disappear under the sea. Days ago, I heard on TV that Portugal will have zones under the water in a short period of time. I am terribly wounded about this. My country's identity and itself are disappearing. It's disappearing due to the consequences of the global warming, of which we, human race, are responsible. It's identity is disappearing due to stuffs that I prefer not to type about. It's hurting me quite a lot and I have had very bitter moments due to this and to the thoughts whipping my soul.
I see people. People passing by. People sitting by my side, like the man in the other afternoon with his arm in the back of the empty chair between us. I felt desire to touch his hand: maybe he wouldn't like and act violently. perhaps, he'd love and asked me to follow. Or he could be indifferent to my reaction.
I live.
And I forget. I do forget people and words and I start to leave the past behind. I don't forget where did I came from, nor who have made of me who and what I am. I just feel like needing to get over this state of mind and I do need to work towards that.
And I do need to stop, when I feel like. And this is the moment. I see failures and tears and mistakes. But that's where the right thing came from: the mistakes!

Sunday, April 06, 2014

The last few days...

The last weeks have been a mad thing. My aunt came to my house with her cat and it happens that both cats fight each other like mads. The old screen of my computer exploded for reasons that I am not mentioned and I am glad that I've been able to avoid a bigger noise at 5 a.m., right after I have arrived home. I am feeling depressed from times to times, but it's nothing that lasts too long to create the need of getting a more agressive escape.

On Thursday night, I went to the cafe like I usually do. I stayed there until the morning of Friday. I haven't slept much. Friday night, after a long, long night, with absinthe and liquor "Beirão" (a Portuguese brand of sweet liquor), I've had a dinner at a friends' house. We've spent most of the night smoking joints, some of the which big ones. The sleepless night, added to alcohol and hashish joints made me feel like being about to drop dead. And yesterday, a few joints at the noon and another one at night made it for me.

It's Sunday. The sun appeared and the temperatures are a bit higher. It finally seems Spring and it's a good day to be outside. I went for a small walk, to get some tobacco and to drink a coffee. I've texted a friend, who said that she would take one hour or so to appear and it has been more than hours by now. It's OK, we're possibly having our coffee at night. It's always nice to see her and to drink one coffee with her, no matter how long we're without seing or talking or even texting each other.
While walking down the avenue, I saw a friend with her baby daughter. The baby smiled to me and hid the face at the mom's neck. I came down the avenue smiling like a fool, for the simple gesture of the baby and for her simple smile.
I walk the streets. I take looks around and I take glimpses at people's facial expressions. Some smile. Others keep a long face. Some others, with their smile, have their lovers by their side. Or their friends. Maybe their kids. I see my friends moving on. They come out of a huge hole where they've been buried and rising up. They move their lives ahead, while I am still living the same shitty life, mostly due to my own fault. I feel sad. And it doesn't lasts for too long.

I fear that I am going crazy. I am possibly madened already. And it happens that I don't feel like having Alice telling me that the best people in the world are the crazy ones. In fact, if Alice would cross my way, she'd bow me with my skinny ass exposed and would slap my ass with a leather whip so hard that it would get black for weeks. She'd yell to me and would blame me and accuse me of my own sins and crimes. And she would be right.
When I am alone, late at night in the streets or when I am listening to my music at home. When I'm alone with my thoughts. When there's no one that I can use as a form of escapism. Those moments are no good. Those moments are no beautiful.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Weirdness, Thoughts, Love

And you show up in the night roads with your dark car. And you're still a ghost. And you still keep it as a secret. And I still keep my mouth shut. While I breathe, you're now safe. You're safe from my words, but not from my eyes. There you are. There you go.
Under the moon brilliance and the stars or through the mist of the fog. You show up. You just disappear.
In the other night you've stopped your car. Then you just disappearead between the buildings, through the never ending road, as a maze that I simply know too well. You'rea ghost of my past. I am the ghost of your sexual secrets. We're both ghosts and that's why I still desire you, no matter how hard things have gone in the last years. I still believe that we're perfect for each other, although you're not a cop or a muscular dude, like those I simply like and crave as fuck-toys. I still believe that we're perfect for each other, although I am not a chick, like your friends believe that you like.
Is it love? Or obsession? So many years and it is still this bad. I close the doors to them, to those others. I use them as fuck toys and nothing else. No feelings involved, because i'm unable to allow such thing to happen. No one shall dare to come too close.
The others... if they know that there's something / someone keeping me aside from this silly love and seduction games or if they don't know anything at all... I don't really give a fuck about that. It's not their business. It's not their hearts or feelings or lifestyle.

Why you and not someone else?
An when I type about "you", is it really YOU or is it someone else? Who knows? Who cares?
I have ideas that I should write down in a note book or to type them down in my mobile. Doing some what of sketches, but I don't. I have those ideas in a cafe or while I am walking down the streets. Still I could sketch them in my mobile, notebook or somewhere. But I sit down in front of a computer or a tablet and I simply let it flow.

Wicked mind.
Wicked me.
Weird way of twist.
That's me!

Monday, March 10, 2014

Seduction games and toothaches

Everything is a game.
Life itself is a game. A game from the which no one will come out alive.
In the last days, I've had several toothaches and today my face is swollen. A big bulge showed up in my right chin and under my right eye. I feel like I am a big ballon, whose holding rope is my (very) thin body.
Days are passing by. Oportunities are left to escape and then I read some quotes online that make me wonder and question. "The child you were would be proud of the person you are today?" If the child I were came to the future and saw my daily reality, would be definitell scared, shocked and sad. Perhaps, if that could happen, he, that little and innocent Bruno, wouldmake it through life. Perhaps if it were possible to get back in time and tell him that none of his dreams would become true, he would work towards it and would change all this reality. It's not possible. Time to deal with it and to face reality.
I have been in the datong website where I am at. I'm no longer in the website for gay men, but I'm in a wider website, from straight to open minded people to meet each others. Of course that I tend to look at gay and bisexual men. The pictures I see... pictures with the purpose to call other people's attention. Some can make us water from our mouths. Others are unpleasant. There is a game, the "dating game", where you see people's picture and you can hit three different buttons. "Yes", "maybe" and "no". I constantly press the "no" button. Some are too good, others too ugly. Some are too young for my tastes. Others too old. Some too chubby. Others too skinny (a bit like me). And the game keeps going, endlessly. I keep, like in life, pressing the "no" button. Denyong every chance or oportunity.
The temperature has increased. We've had about 20° C. It's pleasant to have such temperatures. It's pleasant to see how some people are positively affected by the warmer days and nights. And still at night, my desire to walk under the night sky is bigger. To think and to listen music blasting out loud in the earphones, under the stars.
It's a game.
Everything's just a game.
And I am doing the best of my own.

Thursday, March 06, 2014

so much to do, that it even hurts!

I have had several thoughts and ideas. I haven't writen them down or put them in practice. I do my stuffs and that's it. Seems that I don't care about stuffs anymore.
I am looking forward something and I can not discover or decipher what that little piece of something is. (Do not tell me the obvious, I know that very well).
I am using the little remaining minutes to write this. This is it. The day started well and boring with something I have had to do. I fell aslept as I have arrived home and things gone truly wrong (hours passed by without having me realizing about them). It's getting dark outside and it seems that the longer days are having their effect. Spring will be her soon. I see the flowers showing up here and there. The Spring birds are flying the skies, with their dance. I see it all developing, while my metamorphosis is not coming. I am sadened.
I have walked the streets of Lisbon yesterday. The city sadens me. Beautiful ol builings falling apart. Beautiful old buildings where people could live, falling apart, abandoned. Beautiful old buildings being demolished, so new buildings are popping up. Lisbon, my beautiful and sad city. I crave you and your streets, but I could not desire any others but those where I live at. I have all my life here. Everybody seem to be able to move on, but me...
Pissed off, disturbed and annoyed.
What to do?
So many things that it hurts!

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Something different

Call me idiot!
Call me... something.
Just call me something. It means that I am alive and causing a reaction.
I don't care. I really don't care anymore. What's been left... it shall remain there.
Strange days after sleepless nights cause strange reactions.
There are times that I hope things get well. Things do seem to be in the right path to get well. Things seem to be in the right path to be OK and here comes something... another sinful thought. Another sinful and suicidal act.
The streets of the city know me too well. I need to get a new city to rule. I need to get new streets to walk through. People... I need to get out of here, where I do enjoy a certain fame. Fame is somehow my security and this security is uncomfortable. I fear. I do fear from times to times and it is not the kind of fear that I have tasted a few years agos, before start walking the night streets, before knowing most of the dark shadows sitting or smoking at every dark corner.
Flying rolling papers. Scented smoke vanishing in the air and I am unhappy with all this.
I need more...
So much more...

Thursday, February 13, 2014

A little forgetting note

I just fell down, in a small stairway aside to the builing where my aunt lives at. My knee and my wrist are hurting. My hand is bothering me too. It's OK, just a little wound.
People are asking if everything's OK with me. I am too quiet, they say. I am OK, I just feel a bit sad with no reason, but I am fine. Or I think I am fine.
I have ideas for that secret blog of mine, but I still haven't writen any down. Friends and their jokes... how sweet is revenge in the secret of my words. But still, it's just ideas.
I am OK. I am not. What's wrong? I have no idea.
In the last couple nights, fog hitted the city. Cars pass by and once again it seems that there's another stalker driving in the streets of the city. When the same car passes around the place where you're at, can it still be considered paranoia? If so, after some recent events, call me paranoid then. I don't mind and I'm used to it.
I am wondering and wandering. I wander around, getting highed, wondering about my life. People are joking. Some others are offering me alternative ways out. But they are still joking.
It makes no difference.

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

I don't understand

I don't understand... I don't understand why do I get this obsessed.
I get obsessed with people. I get obsessed with situations. I get obsessed with words. And still I don't understand my obsessions! I still don't understand why do I choose such feelings. It is strange that I let myself go through this, yet I wouldn't like to feel anything else.
I don't understand my being. I don't understand my soul. Yet I wouldn't like any other one different, I don't understand what bursts within my soul and I wander. I wander around, in night walks through the streets, I wander through people, I wander through dreams, fantasies and obsessions. I cry. But my tears are dry. I scream. But my voice is silent. Years pass by and I get older. Older but not wiser.
I don't understand this love o' mine for the voices I love, for the dangers I hug and embrace, for the eyes I choose to look at.
I don't understand myself and yet I wouldn't like to be any different.

Friday, January 31, 2014

A moment for my own

Picture taken from a friend's Facebook!
I'd love to be able to explain what's burning within my soul today. I'd love to go further in the questions of my soul, but I have typed an entryin the other blog. It happens that one poem from my favorite poetess appeared in my mind (soul?) in the shape of a Fado. It happens that this poem speaks about verses writen for a love, that the love must rip them off and to forget about them. It happens that my love has too may poems directed t him, although he doesn't really knows about it. It happens that he appears from times to times and it seems that despite we don't really talk, he answers to my mental "callings". He appears and my core starts bursting. He appears and he reminds me why have I grown up this way and why I've chosen such path.
I regret nothing. I may suffer, but the more it hurts, the stronger I am: a wounded tiger is always more dangerous.
It happens that the rain falls outside and inside of my soul it's all dark: I have no good feelings left. I may even smile or laugh, but I am not OK. And I must be left on my own. Even if I am in a cafe full of people, I must be left in quiet and peace in my corner!

I am needing to go for a late walk in the streets: it doesn't really matters how afraid I am of any situation or how many known people I might find, I need to go for a nightwalk in my own. I might even need the late-night-coffee in the other gas station. I am needing of way too many things.

Peace and quiet and a moment of my own!

Friday, January 24, 2014

Thinking of you again

It bites!
In one of these lonely nights while I was writing a few poems, you came across my mind again - I've promised myself that I've left you go, that I wouldn't be writing to you again, about you ever again!
After this long morning and a night with a very short sleep, here I am at my aunt's house, listening to this song - somehow it reminds of you, although we've never been from each other! You're just a dream of mine, someone that I think that has been more present in my life than I could ever judge: before our conversations online with a web camera turned on and naked bodies, I believe that I have seen you in a train headed to the North of the country. One of my older paintings makes me think and believe that it's you. I've seen you two or more times in that train, when I was a regular costumer of the Northern line.
I have promised that I wouldn't leave you to disturb or annoy me ever again: your car has passed by me in one of these nights. It's hard not to look automatically to the car badges, after all the frights that I have got through your car and through the nights that you've haunted me with it in dark and desert streets!
You're my dream and my fantasy - I am a ghost of your past, the evidence of your "crimes" with no evidences at all.
Maybe you are the reason why love has become something so bitter for me - when I was younger, it seemed to be the reason why I lived for: to hase and to find it. I have believed that's what artists live for, to love and to be loved and then to portrait it in their art, it oesn't matter if it's painting / drawing or writing or even making music.
Here I am, thinking of you again!

Wednesday, January 08, 2014

Futuristic cities of my dreams

Somehow, this song makes me imagine a futuristic world, with flying cars, spaceships, spacetrips. Perhaps due to the sound itself, and not that much about the lyrics, since the lyrics speak about love and difference.

Friday, January 03, 2014


A bit before the dinner, I was about typing one entry. One entry about this and that... the kind of chitchat you make with people who don't know from nowhere, but that start speaking to you in the train or in the bus stations, in the cafe or in the supermarkets.
Christmas and the whole set of celebrations with the New Year are finally over. These days have been annoying me pretty much. I have been smoking quite a lot, because of the lack of mental peace. My mind never stops working, nit even when I am almost fainting after I have smoked a few joints. When I am too highed to even understand what people are saying to me, even then I am always thinking.
Since I was a very young child that I have always had this "tendence" of over-thinking. I remember of being a 3 or 4 years old child, walking the yard of the kindergarten where I was and thinking. When it was raining and we was inside, I was in my corner drawing, although I have always had the guts of interactong with other people. Melancholic states of mind are part of me. Longing thoughts are my fave "dish". 
Then again... I am listening to arab music. Years ago, when a brazilian opera soap woth a few actors playing the role of being a moroccan family, I've learned to enjoy the arabic music. The arabic culture, with a wide unknownside for me, got my respect. And while I am listening to the an arabic song. That same one that I am sharing.
I have thought about about learning to dance the belly dance style. There are men who dance it, there men willing to learn it and I am one of them. And while I am listening to this kind of music, my mind takes me somewhere else. I see one desert and the wind blowing. The sand flies and in the distant horizon, I can see a caravan passing. With another blow of the wind, I am millionaire who rules the caravan, with experient men guiding me and giving me advises. Some of these men, are the same men who put the tents up for the night and are also the me that I have bought for my very own and personal manly harem.
I am in many places. Not all at the same time, but I feel like visiting the arab world, always in an eternal quest. The quest of trying to find my soul and it still doesn't works. My soul can not be found there.
My soul is empty and still I have enough things to say in my poetry. It's all that I got left. I have stopped painting, because I believe that I would manage to straighten up my life and to return to study, that I could learn what was left for me to learn and then I could work without feeling bad for not knowing enough about the art itself and the techniques that I could use.
I doubt of the quality of my poems. I doubt of the quality of what I have to say. I try this and that, but when I get down one level of the language that I use, I always feel dirty. I feel low leveled, so I delete any other thing that I may write, because it hangs too close to the pornographic poetry, without a careful, eroticized language - it's straight to the point!
I am madened and  am smoking like one madened man!
I ammadened and smiling turns to be a difficult errand.
People ask me to play some cards with them and I say that I am not wanting to. And when I am not wanting to play, it's better that I am left alone. My gambling (without money involved) works much better when I start singing Fado or when I staring a dude's ass, but when I say that I am not in the mood, it happens tha my gambling won't work. And it ain't worked tonight!
I want to leave this wicked place.
I want to go to the desert of my dreams and fantasies.
I am not a millionaire. I can not order a caravan wth experient guides and I don't have money to bu the men for my manly harem, so all I got left are my dreams, my fantasies, my writings and a few files about self-publishing on to read. I should have read them before, but it ain't been the errand that I got done. I haven't done this yet. Of three files,  only read the first one and I got the second one to go through, after re-reading the first one. I also have a free e-book to download, which is the third file that I got to read.
I need to work on this. I need t fill my mind with this knowledge. And I also am in the need to search the web to get some help with the wicked poetry's structure, as I am someone who writes poetry as a "sport", without a true knowledge about it!
I need to improve my knowledge.
I need to improve my soul and my creative life!
I need to dream more and to let go of my fantasies in my writings. It'll be the best way to go through them.
A few months ago, I went back to the chat for gay men where I used to go. And tha Egyptian boy told me that my fantasies with him were like pieces of fairytales. So why not to write them down? Why not to unleash another genius in a rusty lamp or in a bottle of crystal? Why not to fly in a magical carpet, under the starry sky? The sand storms would mean nothing, as they were outside and I had a few male belly dancers within my palace. Rich and gay and bisexual men would come to see the dance shows of my dancers.
Sitting in an imposing chair, I would assist to the shows. I would see those rich men paying their bills to watch my men dancing and to listen to the musics that the composers woud compose for us.
Smoking my cigarettes, my joints or the shisha, those rich men, would try to delight me with other dancers. With their money, they would try to buy nights and nights with me. They would try delight and amuse me. I would get richer and richer. I would create a huge army. My army and I would cross the deserts.
And my never ending fantasies would be a real thing. And not even then I would feel less mad and less lonely.
And not even then, I would wish and desire and crave for anything greater!

Wednesday, January 01, 2014

A disturbed man

When my voice stops speaking,
When my heart stops beating,
When my soul stops feeling
And my hands stop writing, painting and working,
When my body is thrown and abandoned in the coffin,
When the ashes of sorrow and regret are traveling the world,
When this disturbia-paranoia is shut and locked in the personal hell,
When suicide is a prayer,
When it hurts... and hurts no longer
The voice of madness, the song of despair.
One disturbed soul shut and shot,
One glass of disturbed ashes down the throat of the liars.

It goes and flows.
Imperfect words.
Imperfect steps.
You know me, dearest, and I have draw you:
The image of that man in the train,
Your image, naked in front of me
Through the technology of days:
Both of you, a single one,
A single portrait.

Now the silence:
The broken glass rips the fragile skin
And the dark and bitter blood flows free.
In my dreams, you and I are hanging in the tree,
I am your lover, your perfect lover,
I am your kiss of despair,
And you're always the feeling of despair,
Dark cars passing by
Terrifying me in the dsrkest nights.

The black birds howl their songs of death,
The dead walk the streets,
And dance,
And sing,
And laugh,
And they call my name.

The black birds keep howling their song
That it seems they're calling my name!

New Year is here

Happy 2014, everyone! I tend not to celebrate Christmas, New Years and all the celebrations. Parties and celebrations have their somewhat of sad for me. I seem a joyful person, but when it comes to certain... erm, "things", like parties, celebrations... I am not that happy. But I got to wish you all a very happy New Year of 2014!
I have spent the last hour of 2013 listening to this amazing woman singing. Amália Rodrigues, the Portuguese fadista (fado singer), an amazing singer, an extraordinary human being and someone I miss to hear about in the tv and in the news. Someone who makes me feel terribly proud of being Portuguese, despite all the bad things that are related to Portugal at this moment!
I don't have much more to say... not now... not tonight...
Happy New Year!