Man with a Fork in a world of Spoons

I feel like a man with a fork in a world of spoons
Forever remote, different from the rest,
Animal cursed and always in distress.

Why so quickly?

Down the indefinite road
Wet feet splashing puddles cold,
For slices of innocence showed
At the long gone age of gold.

Dreaming Reality - Insanity

Let's face it - my life could be more worth living. It could be... less boring, for boring life is to one who is clueless regarding its own purpose or meaning - his goal until he reaches the end.
As a consequence, my mind comes in help. My mind aids my distress, my feeling of anxiety the same cure. But how? How? How can a man be released from his misery only with his mind? Quite simple - mind is synchronously the source and its cure. A pointless and redundant thesis one might argue. Sad to admit I must say, to the reality it couldn't be closer.

Past Mistakes, Today's Fears

Snowy paths in salt thrilled,

Alone I walk with allies,
Cold cheeks expressionless fulfilled,
Soon to surface the truth lies.

Past Memories

Between you and me,
Delusional wall stands.
One I cannot see,
But can feel,
One I can hide from,
But not repeal.

Sê o melhor no que amas e menospreza o restante

Como laser convergir,

Para propósito superior alcançar,

Dentro de mim paixão emergir,

Prazer iminente abdicar.

Asneiras

No outro dia, que não existiu e que serve meramente para introduzir este tópico, uma pergunta pertinente na minha cabeça se introduziu. Essa ideia, questão, ou simplesmente incompreensão de um puro ignorante é a raiz das asneiras - as palavras "más".

Tale of a Soulful Figure

Through deep haze a shadow silhouette

Head down dry hair faintly wet,
No tears but raindrops face scars feeling
Blackgloved hands revealing
Liquid-proof shape forward ambulating
Drowning itself empty void concealing.

Shame

Down the library in winter cold,
A glance of her eyes I behold,
Ingeniously she flips through pages,
As stunned I pause for ages.

Undefined

I am here looking...
Up in hope,
Down in misery,
Forward as time I seek,
More than raw agony.

Solidão

Cada ser é um ser. Cada corpo é um corpo. Cada mente é uma mente. Cada um é diferente dos seus iguais.

Because I can

I'm still here waiting

For the moment they realize,

My will remaining

My authority absolutize.

Timeline of Self

Back I keep on peeking,

Through glass I mirror myself,

He I do not recognize I hear speaking,
Writing he shows himself.

Lone Wolf

Through the eyes of the bright
A flaming heart flashes in innocence,
Drowning he looks up the light,
Outburst by his utter impotence.

Rules were made to be broken

A rush of adrenaline
Through my blood flows,
Swimming against the stream
Face up as the wind blows.

Life is Boring

People are boring. Mindless idiots jumping between trends, hoping that, by following something, they will be something. They achieve nothing, they create nothing, they are nothing. And they make everything boring. Small talk to fill in time, essence of our existence, wasting the money they are born with, not realizing how finite it is. Everything is useless, pointless. Why do we feel? Why do we think? Wouldn't we be better of not having this "thing" those whose knowledge surpass mere mortals say we have? One thing I know: a rational individual is nothing but a cover to the sensitive and extremely emotional mind that lies within.

Se o mundo acabasse amanhã (e eu o soubesse)

Matava-me. Tão simples quanto isso. A sensação de saber que o fim da linha existe mas não ter consciência da sua ocorrência é algo suportável. Preocupante? Talvez. Porém saber o instante da sua ocorrência apresenta-se para mim como algo frustrante e impensável.