fruto.

Do conto “carta caótica” de Elias José

 

“Não resista, por favor. Estou pedindo. Não espere mais, parta antes que me torne completamente cego e não consiga distinguir o perigo e me perca nos seus olhos castanhos e grandes, pedindo sempre mais. Acho que eles não pouparão os meus olhos, você estará impressa neles e isso os importuna demais. Entre o cheiro da minha carne apodrecida, só sentirei o perfume da sua colônia, e só eles chegará as minhas narinas. O amor é muito frágil diante do ódio, ele se despe e fica desprotegido enquanto o inimigo atentamente se prepara para atacar. (…) A lembrança, nosso primeiro encontro, a certeza de que era encontro e não haveria mais adeus por que antes do outros e antes de tudo, nós dois estávamos esperando um pelo outro desde o primeiro da de vida. O que a gente plantou vai florescer ao lado das pedras atiradas ou gestos de espera. As nossas fórmulas não servem para olhos virados para o inútil. É pena que tenha que ser agora a partida.”

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Belated Letter

“I’ve been with so many beautiful people (in bed) but they made some effort! Not you. I didn’t even know you, and you were a charming little bastard since the very first time I saw you, two years ago. How can you? How can you do this to yourself, if yourself is a person? Wear your oldest and ugliest tee, continue beautiful. If you let me let you go (now), i’ll still think about these pretty stuff you do (not on purpose) and its not because I’m ridiculously sticking my tongue in your mouth on weekends, but it’s because you’re that once-in-a-while guy that I enjoy knowing, cause eventually we’ll become really important people for each other. (Yes? Yes) I want to talk to you. I wanna drink your yogurt. I want to wash your hair and make you sneeze from laughing.

  • Do you want to do anything to me?”
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Pretty C

In this available set

Some day in remembruary

When we accidently met

 

And when everything gets dark

Read me johnny cooper clarke

Say the prayers If I sin to

When I seem to be undone

Kiss me kiss me kiss me

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Andy C. Shell

Rounded by friends, being condecorated

his alternative ego

misread and frustrated

 

Should I thank for god? Shall we tell the story?

No ones even listening

He stood for no glory

 

That guy was aware he was no seaman

But I smell from his spit

he’ll be bigger then

 

More than a simple sailor with all those tricks and skills

he has a tempestuous soul

that both gives birth and kills

 

One day in his cruise ship, along with his anger

his passion and his beauty

somewhere he will anchor.

 

I call him by his name, Andy Chownyk Shell

in 10 minutes he’ll be sitting here

and even the time it’s not that near

I’m alreay feeling well.

 

 

 

 

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o de sempre

to a lovely friend
who made me happy
who made me suffer
who made me drunk
and made me sober
you know who you are
I love you like a dark hole loves to expand itself and swallows everything in the universe.

Jackie

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A.

I love your stupid hair

I love the way you walk around

I love your chin and you beard

I love your tiny eyes

I love your nose

I love your quirky laugh

And the way you blink your eyes everytime you do it

I love all of your tats

I love the way you smell

I love the scar on your left cheek

I love your playing, I love your singin.

I love your non beliefs, I love your lips.

I love when you sing along with me

And I love the weird way you look at me.

I even love you  when you’re stupid, so I can be stupid too.

And you might love something about me, but nothing compared

like

I

love

you.

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Whistle Song

For all those beloved angels                                                                                                                   For all these godamned  stars                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   I will get you to the churches                                                                                                           You will take me out to bars

In that poem I just made out                                                                                                                A grammatical mistake                                                                                                                         And for you to realize it,                                                                                                                    how many hours will it take?

Take me out and be my best match                                                                                                     I can be your Mrs. Jones                                                                                                                   We are tired, it’s not working                                                                                                            All this rage and love undone

I am crying, for the record                                                                                                               And I’llbe for all these years                                                                                                         Optimistically talking,                                                                                                                          in the book Guinness of tears

But I sleep and you just hangs there                                                                                             With your other on the phone                                                                                                           Let me go and dream about this                                                                                                       Let me stay here all alone

And I bet she doesnt whistle                                                                                                                                                                     You try and see if she can                                                                                                                   You may have your needs but, honey                                                                                           She’s not crazy like I am

Now in terms of science and shit                                                                                                     She may dig, but yet, not still                                                                                                               And by the apocalypse day                                                                                                                She won’t be there like I will

All these stupid comparisons                                                                                                        Made me think about these days                                                                                                    When no one can grab a tissue                                                                                                         When no one can help, or save.

But back then in year thirteen                                                                                                      There wasn’t an ambulance                                                                                                                    I wasn’t really expecting                                                                                                                                                 But you saved  me with a glance.

I can’t stand my wrong intentions                                                                                                       I don’t know how this will end                                                                                                         But I write, I say I’m sorry,                                                                                                            Your worst lover, and best friend.

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