Do Amor

Se disser amo-te quando faço sexo quer dizer que amo mesmo a pessoa ainda que a tenha conhecido dez minutos antes?

Afinal, o que é o amor?

Economia

Por mais que tente percebê-la, por mais que me expliquem vezes sem conta o que ela é, continuo sem entender o que é essa coisa, esse monstro a que chamamos "economia". O que me parece é que O Senhor dos Anéis acaba por ser um livro/filme menos ficcional do que o que essa palavra significa. E deixam o mundo cair como merda de macaco porque a economia está em crise.

Um cigarro

O mundo só faz sentido quando não tentamos fazer sentido dele.

Falta

A - And I want to play hide-and-seek and give you my
clothes and tell you I like your shoes and sit on the steps
while you take a bath and massage your neck and kiss
your feet and hold your hand and go for a meal and not
mind when you eat my food and meet you at Rudy's and
talk about the day and type up your letters and carry your
boxes and laugh at your paranoia and give you tapes you
don't listen to and watch great filmes and watch terrible
films and complain about the radio and take pictures of
you when you're sleeping and get up to fetch you coffee
and bagels and Danish and go to Florent and drink coffee
at midnight and have you steal my cigarettes and never
be able to find a match and tell you about the tv
programme I saw the night before and take you to the
eye hospital and not laugh at your jokes and want you in
in the morning but let you sleep for a while and kiss your
back and stroke your skin and tell you how much I love
your hair your eyes your lips your neck your breasts your
arse your

and sit on the steps smoking till your neighbour comes
home and sit on the steps smoking till you come home
and worry when you're late and be amazed when you're
early and give you sunflowers and go to your party and
dance till I'm back and be sorry when I'm wrong and
happy when you forgive me and look at your photos and
wish I'd known you forever and hear your voice in my
ear and feel your skin on my skin and get scared when
you're angry and your eye has gone red and the other
eye blue and your hair to the left and your face oriental
and tell you you're gorgeous and hug you when you're
anxious and hold you when you hurt and want you when
I smell you and offend you when I touch you and
whimper when I'm next to you and whimper when I'm
not and dribble on your breast and smother you in the
night and get cold when you take the blanket and hot
when you don't and melt when you smile and dissolve
when you laugh and not understand why you think I'm
rejecting you when I'm not rejecting you and wonder
how you could think I'd ever reject you and wonder who
you are but accept you anyway and tell you about the
tree angel enchanted forest boy who flew across the
ocean because he loved you and write poems for you and
wonder why you don't believe me and have a feeling so
deep I can't find words for it and want to buy you a
kitten I'd get jealous of because it would get more
attention than me and keep you in bed when you have to
go and cry like a baby when you finally do and get rid of
the roaches and buy you presents you don't want and
take them away again and ask you to marry me and you
say no again but keep on asking because though you think
I don't mean it I do always have from the first time I
asked you and wander the city thinking it's empty
without you and want what you want and think I'm
losing myself but know I'm safe with you and tell you the
worst of me and try to give you the best of me because
you don't deserve any less and answer your questions
when I'd rather not and tell you the truth when I really
don't want to and try to be honest because I know you
prefer it and think it's all over but hang on in for just ten
more minutes before you throw me out of your life and
forget who I am and try to get closer to you because it's
beautiful learning to know you and well worth the effort
and speak German to you badly and Hebrew to you
worse and make love with you at three in the morning
and somehow somehow somehow communicate
some of the/overwhelming undying overpowering
unconditional all-encompassing heart-enriching
mind-expanding on-going never-ending love I have
for you.

Sarah Kane, Crave


Love dissected. Where are you, then?

Poetry as a gift

THE SMILE OF TRAGEDIES

To Fran, our inspiring Fran

We are actors onstage,
playing characters who play themselves or others.

Each night, as the curtain rises,
there's only one woman who smiles through our tragedies.

As blood is drawn and heroes
fall, repent or die, she looks as if she holds a secret.

One night, at the end of the play,
her secret was finally revealed:

as the curtain was drawn we heard a burst of laughter,
immense as the applause of a full room.

We then smiled and thought no more about our tragedies.

Violet

I feel my eyes closing as the heart beats faster, faster, faster. The hands are shaking and I've got the shivers even though my body is warm. I'm wet for the rush of adrenaline and I can't see the city for the cars - I smell like shit and my knees are brown. One day, I will be a fat burlesque dancer sharing the stage with a post-modernist doctor. My body is warm, I shiver and my heart beats faster, faster, faster.

O Escuro e os Sonhos de Adão

Sonho com a morte. Não a minha, não a de Helena, mas sim a morte. Não há nenhuma figura com uma gadanha, não há nenhum cavaleiro negro. Há a morte, a palavra morte, o que significa e sempre significou, como um letreiro de luzes escuras no meio de um nada. Atrás do letreiro estão todas as gerações de pessoas já mortas, todas as civilizações que já cessaram de existir, desde o início dos tempos até ao passado presente. Deste lado, estão os vivos. O número de passos que tenho de percorrer até chegar à palavra morte corresponde ao número de anos que, no sonho, sei que ainda me resta. Antes e depois disso, há respectivamente o nada e o cessar do algo. A memória colectiva é forte, mas há pouco espaço para a individual. O que faz um homem ou uma mulher nesse curto espaço de tempo que é a existência. O que faz com que viver seja um testemunho para um futuro. São perguntas que faço no sonho, pois se posso ver os mortos por detrás da morte e se posso ver os vivos à sua frente, não vejo em lugar algum aqueles que virão. É essa a grande dor e mal da existência, o ter de não saber quem serão esses, os outros, os que começarão um novo ciclo após morrermos. E ainda o letreiro de luzes escuras a impor-se, a mostrar-me, a mim e Helena, que não somos nada, que não podemos querer ser nada, que podemos ter em nós todos os sonhos do mundo, mas que estes acabam quando começa a morte. O corvo, do outro lado da morte, permanece imóvel e olha-me. Grito-lhe, Responde-me, corvo. E ele permanece imóvel e não me fala. Atrás dos que estão por detrás da morte, há um precipício e o chão é como se fosse um rio que caminha nessa direcção. Os que estão atrás de todo vão caindo aos milhares no poço sem fundo e muitos outros deste lado vão passando para o outro. É um mecanismo brutal, violento, definitivo. E, no entanto, há uma serenidade colectiva nos rostos dos mortos, quase um sorriso nos lábios de cada um. O corvo afasta-se cada vez mais e os meus pés estão colados ao chão. E ele afasta-se, afasta-se, afasta-se, afasta-se, a f a s t a – se, a f a s t a - s e, a f a s t a - s e, a f a s t a - s e até cair.