Monday, May 07, 2018

Só te quero devorar...

Com um gesto sedutor
Mergulhas vezes sem fim 
Gritas de desejo e dor 
Nada pode ser melhor

Sunday, May 06, 2018


The lights are dim. A soft tune plays through the columns, and the bartender is distracted talking, inaudible, through the kitchen door.

Lost in thoughts, you swirl your glass of red wine: A Primitivo of doubtful quality in a land of beer. It does not matter. The bar is not a place for wine. It’s a place to drown sorrows, forget reality, get convivial with strangers.

It looks empty. Hotel bars have stopped being romantic after spies moved online. They lost their charm, alongside clients.  Sitting on a corner of the room, you turn the head to the TV, where the latest F1 race highlights are shown. Big crash of the national hero. You don’t understand the language, and decide to sip the wine. Remembering everything, you don’t stop there, and just drain the glass in one go.

Slowly, you put it down, and turn to order another one. But realize a new appeal in the charmless bar. A tall, blonde, well built man is looking in the void, lost in his thoughts. Had he gone unnoticed when coming in, or had he arrived silently? Doesn’t matter. Something about him seems different. Appealing. Enticing. Is it the wine, or the sip? Or maybe a deserted soul anxious for sprouting life into a luxurious Oasis?

Whatever the reason, you hold back. Let the wine sink in, the head drop back into the velvet sofa headrest. And turn it, exposing neck. Suddenly, you realize he is no longer staring in the void, but looking straight into your eyes. Rather than pulling away, standing up, climbing back to the lonely room, you let your eyes dart desire. Then lay your head back, put the hand to the neck and caress the increasingly open cleavage, in an unspoken, unavoidable, invitation. The righteous man calls the waiter, orders a glass of red wine. Grabs his gin, walks towards you.

“May I sit? I see you finished your glass, ordered another.”
“Sure. Hello stranger.”

The next day, the sun his slowly coming through the small opens in the blinds.

There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in. 

Und alles an dir Bleibt stumm.

Hey, ich hör' dich leise lachen
Und dann merk ich wie's mich trifft.

Tall and strong, blonde and righteous.

Personal love has typically been thought too wonderful to remove from human life; but it has also been seen (not only by philosophers) as a source of great moral danger because of its partiality and the extreme form of vulnerability it involves, which make a connection with jealousy and anger virtually inevitable.

Saturday, May 05, 2018

velho trapo

new adventures. new horizons. new companions. new sensations. new objectives. new desires.

new vehicles, new routes.

new heart and soul.

while I, I remain the same old wrap.

Friday, May 04, 2018

Free to wear sunscreen

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them

Thursday, May 03, 2018


Keep breathing

Saturday, April 28, 2018

The beautiful smile hides the troubled soul

And though I do try the best I can
You had to be me to understand

Dream on

carrega stop, faz rewind, por favor volta para trás

Snippets of imagination come and go. The hard truth is inexplicable though. The schizophrenia is way too deep, way too unsound, way too insane.

I am dissociated from everything while living something, and still, everything is always present. We all are acting throghout life, but I am in the audience, screenplaying and directing as well.

I can’t forget anything, and this is why I have no option than carrying on. Dreaming on.

Friday, April 27, 2018



Subtle details

Sensual visions and feels. Sliding into you. Sensing the pressure and relief and getting drawn into your warmth. Enjoying the rythm, gradually growing into a synchronized beat.

All while desiring kissing your open skin where the straps hang. Imagining your smoothness below the silk. Moving the straps aside, triggering a slow unveiling of your beautiful whole. Letting my blood rush and have no restraints so you feel me as well. You turn your back, tilt your head, expose your neck and feel my soft bites. You do allow my arms to squeeze you against my bare chest, start moving your waist round and round and up and down, while murmuring words of ecstasy. And the rythm gradually grows into a synchronized beat, my hands hold your face and mouth tight, the murmur turns to gasping and pleasure, and you want to wait no more. You turn to me. Look deeply into my eyes and soul, we hold our hands tight. I push you against the wall, just like years ago. Only this time there’s nothing in between. And you gasp, bite my ear, kiss my beard. My weight is holding you tight and you easily wrap your legs around my torso. There’s no need to explore you with my hands. I can feel you entirely in the close embrace. We get back to a synchronized beat, only to suddenly realize we are closer than ever before, and, equally suddenly, deeper than our wildest wishes. We stop abruptly, static, electrified. You are shivering, I’m in awe. The sounds we manage to convey are slow and rumbling. Primitive. I hold your hands and push them high and you moan.

And then, you manage to say two words: “don’t stop”. And the rythm gradually climbs into a complex growing orchestra, playing through waves of endless pleasure.

Monday, April 23, 2018

Lacerating distance

that “fertile solitude” is the basic unit of a full and contented life.

But in the neutral state of aloneness, the psychoemotional line between solitude and loneliness can be as thin as a razor’s edge and as lacerating to the soul. 

Friday, April 20, 2018


Stay all day 
if you want to

Sleeping on your bed
You break my arms
You spoon my eyes

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

it is enough

to have my conciousness screaming at me. it does not need remembering, at every step, what a lousy bastard I am.

i do take care of making myself miserable, and just would like to, at times, forget I bring hurt, forget I cause pain, and that people treasure the little thing I give with no but's, with no expectations, with no judgements.

else, it just adds external angst to sorrow.

It's all right and all wrong

I won't be the last I won't be the first

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Happiness is only real when shared.

Wednesday, April 11, 2018

We are not children, or fools, we are mad.

You, best of all, know how I feel about you, and always shall. No one can ever take your place with me. We know each other in such a terrible, certain, windless way. You and I have almost achieved that which is never achieved: we sit in each other’s souls.

Sunday, April 08, 2018

Can a fish drown?

The art of giving

entails the willingness of receiving. Not in your own terms, but those of the givers.

If you are not willing to accept the terms and conditions, should you not accept the gift?
And if so, how to make sure that this lack of acceptance doesn't translate into rejection, pain and hurt?  Or, should you be disrespectful, and accept it, knowing that you are unable to abide to the implied conditions, but showing clearly your willingness?

And if you give, what do you give? And if you receive, how do you receive? And if there's a reason to give and a reason to receive, why not doing so?

Yet another conundrum. Preso por ter cão, preso por não ter.

Saturday, April 07, 2018

waking up

Trembling. Shivering.

The thoughts were sudden. The images real. The feeling non existing.

A worst case scenario is, at times, one of delight.

Everything was there. The look, the closeness, the warmth. Then, you murmured while biting my hear.

And then, I stopped shivering and trembling. Steady and calm, I woke up again. While I breathed heavily, you were still moaning.

We looked into each others eyes and smiled.

Wednesday, April 04, 2018


is a killer. In many different ways.

Tuesday, April 03, 2018

finding a way

How to tame desire? Allow it to express in all different colours, while respecting the boundaries?
Which colours are acceptable?

How to avoid circumstances that will derail the right course of action?
What is right? What is wrong?

Living now is easy. Thinking about the future and remembering the past is hard. And still, each moment is worth living without considerations for anything else.

Is that enough?

Monday, April 02, 2018


Ficar contigo, agora e para sempre
Nadar no teu corpo, eternamente
Teus sonhos os meus serão
Meus sonhos os teus serão

No limits

it is useless to have limits: mind flies over them, dreams the impossible, and when presented the opportunity will soak every last bit of light that pours through the cracks in the wall.

In fact, there are no limits in mankind. People are designed to push them, break them, explore all the realm of the unknown that lies beyond. It is against the nature of Men to think otherwise, and if doing so, we may as well stop breathing. We may be limited physically, but even that won’t stop emotions from flowing, and spirits from flying.

However, while limits are useless, boundaries are effective. The premise is otherwise, it accepts the fact that there is no limit, and establishes instead that both parties agree to a set of rules along an imaginary border. A boundary is physical. It doesn’t stop the knowledge of each other to stop, as any boundary is porous to both will and insanity, both acts and ideas. But it prevents and controls the sense of loss in a world that is too large. 

And when boundaries are broken, war ensues. Kingdoms fall. Alliances are shattered. Links severed. 
We may cause people to be angry with words and ideas. But it is the moment when a soldier dares stepping over the wall, cutting the fence, that the real turmoil starts.

Still, the boundary is a mere conception. Rivers flow through. Mountains are the same across both sides. Birds fly over. 

And we, in the limelight of despair, dream together. We rely on boundaries so we can have no limits.

Saturday, March 31, 2018

unsound dreams

"Shut up, and make love to me."

These unsound dreams haunt me. The tiramisú is the dessert, the plate is your fresh body, cream on the side of your lips, your shoulder, the tip of those ivory towers that are your breasts. I possess you while you shiver. And, when it's done, instead of the nothing, we feel the everything.

I can't silence them. And, still, they have to become nothing but dreams.

Friday, March 30, 2018

A liar

and a thief.

it's all I am.

To lack it is to be locked within oneself, paradoxically incapable of either love or indifference. If we do not respect ourselves, we are on the one hand forced to despise those who have so few resources as to consort with us, so little perception as to remain blind to our fatal weaknesses. 

Wednesday, March 28, 2018

Stop. Rewind.

Play back.

Buried in voluptuary

Tuesday, March 27, 2018

dois corpos despidos abracados no nada

Pedes-me um momento
Agarras as palavras
Escondes-te no tempo 
Porque o tempo tem asas 
Levas a cidade 
Solta me o cabelo 
Perdes-te comigo 
Porque o mundo é o momento

Sunday, March 25, 2018

living the moment

or living in the moment?

or making life about the moment?

or turning a moment into a lifetime?

or bringing life to a moment?

or, in a moment, live life?

or, because of a moment, lose life?


I can't resist you. You can't resist me.

And, just like that, we're both applying the power of our minds to our touching hands, and allowing this infinite current to galvanize our bodies.

and once it starts, I can't stop. I would need to switch off my mind, but the switch is broken once the thoughts start flowing.

and you wouldn't believe the magnitude and intensity of those thoughts when translated to reality, were there no walls between us.


again, and again, and again, and again.

time and time again. not caring about the past, nor the future. and, from time to time, not even the present.

and still, missing out on everything. have glimpses of wonder, and let it remain in the ether.

it's not win-win. it's lose-lose. and I'm, therefore, lost.

Saturday, March 24, 2018

Winter time

Will be gone. Light will be suddenly iluminating a bigger part of the day. Everyone cheers this change, although the Universe doesn’t change. Only the convention of how we represent an hour.

And still, convention is the road that people follow. A road with no rules is typically a slow one, no matter how interesting going the one less travelled seems.

Some of those with no markings, no direction, no straights, lead to the top of the mountains. At the end of that road, more often than not, there’s a religious shrine. For some reason, it is on high altitudes most temples are. And that winter is to be found.

While we find winter and suffer from reaching higher, it’s true that it is from the top we experience more sunlight, vaster horizons, lack of oxygen.

And then, we slide down. Maybe we fall. Maybe we glide. But certainly we remember that religious experience of reaching the heights.

Meet me in Montauk

Friday, March 23, 2018

A hug

Long nights

Thursday, March 22, 2018


It will come

And I will be devastated.  It ain´t easy, never was, never is, never will be. And it will be unannounced, except by seeing your resistance to my sudden realisation of the loss.

It´s hard. It´s complex. And, still, irrational. Or rational, perhaps. Everything and its contrary. 

I don´t know. Knowing there´s no limits, all the ocean´s in the world have opened up. You tell me they are there for the taking. And still, I feel like a Pirate crossing boundaries that belong to someone else, someone that will glide above rather than cut through the waters.
Someone that will appreciate the sunsets, rather than turning the back to stare at the moon.
Someone that will dive into your warmth with no second thoughts rather remaining by the beach in awe of the immensity you bring to the world.
Someone who faces the storm, rather than recoiling in fear.
Someone that will find the riches in you, and care for them, rather than stealing for beguiling purposes. 

But then again, the everything and its contrary. I know I´m not a Pirate, I just seem to behave like one. I´m just a lost sailor, navigating aimlessly at the mercy of winds and tides. Making the most of the illusion of having you for the briefest of the moments. Rowing with conviction before my energy wanes.  

And it´s hard to keep you at bay, knowing that even for the slightest of gestures there´s a crowd always around peering at us, trying to understand what this is all about, when not even we know. It´s hard to keep you at bay, knowing I want to be with you. It´s hard, because I would be a Pirate, fascinated by the mirror looking back at us, feeling all powerful.

I will be devastated. Because I´m not a Pirate. I do care. At times, so much, it hurts. 

I don´t know.

Às vezes fraco, assim é o coração.

Um trolha da Areosa

Everything in life is time bound. What was, what is, what will be.

Moments, Walks, Projects, Realisations, Travels, the Lifetime.

Only dreams last beyond our existence.

Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Can’t stop

Sometimes, I just wouldn’t stop, and all my energy and devotion would break over conventions, walls, lives.

Sometimes, I can’t stop, the flurry of thoughts, dreams, wishes just takes over.

Sometimes, I don’t want to stop, when it’s too late and your scent is too close.

Sometimes, I don’t stop, and the world is turned upside down in joy and awe.

Sometimes, I stop.
And then, you tell me not to.
And I go for it.

Tuesday, March 20, 2018


my soul. gently, steadily.

your hands glide smartly and decisively from top to bottom. my imagination runs wild. you take a step back. with one hand only, you unbutton three buttons. i see the contours of your chest moving with your slow breathing.

and we stop. my soul is naked, yours is held open. and we go back to the beginning. shy, shaking, we move closer. too close.

I succumb to your charms, and likewise,  you start buttoning back, leaving my soul to last.

Sunday, March 18, 2018

Wild dreams

confusing, surreal, worthy.

Friday, March 16, 2018

How near or how far

We'll sail on the steel breeze. 

It's easy. Exchange feelings. I can cope. The problem is that we only see the joy of discovery.

When we'll need more, and have less, frustration will overcome. And exchanges will not be as light, surprising and rightful. We strip down complexity into simple words that should be said, and try to forget that down the road they will no longer seem innocent. Even if they are.

In retrospective, all children are innocent people that grow into uncertain teenagers and ruthless adults.


after the storm. it's not a win-win. it's not a game. it's life. no winners, no losers, just life. living it in multiple fronts, just hope not to lose my way. there's many destinations and many paths. and in some of them, limits. unsurmountable walls, some we've built, some just cliffs that are simply there. there're already so many the nature and the cities have put in front of us, there's no point in creating artificial ones. having no limits and no walls just focus the energies for what matters, even if it's just sitting down contemplating the horizon: all that could be, but is far of reach, all that condenses the sum of some dreams, but where they go to set. what matters is seating watching it. then, one of us will stand up and walk. in the night, there is no horizon anyhow.

Thursday, March 15, 2018

So delicate

stone white

Still wrong

and still, so unbearably good.

Wednesday, March 14, 2018

It’s alright

my heart, body and soul are saying it is.

but my mind knows it’s wrong.

And still, it’s feeding memories, enticing desires, displaying flashes, pumping endorphines.
Letting itself be controlled by and blindly obeying its masters: heart, body and soul.

Is it alright? What about tomorrow, and the next day? What about yesterday? Does it not matter, or was and is all that matter?

It should be alright, and still, it isn’t.

Tuesday, March 13, 2018

come as you are

Who knows? 
Not me 
I never lost control

memo to self.

Idiot. Idiot. Why opening up your heart like that? Couldn’t you see it is useless? Now besides your heart and soul, you need to deal with hers, her reasoning, her beauty, her knowledge of everything, her higher ground.

But words
They cannot love
Don't waste them like that
Cus they'll bruise you more

Idiot, idiot, idiot. What was the point? Just showing the extent of your incompetence and useleness? Making the void of your actions visible and blatant, and inexplicable?

You do nothing else than cause pain and bruise and hurt around you, and to the ones you love. Shame on you! IDIOT! You should know better, you have the responsibility to know better! I-D-I-O-T!

What’s the use of words with minimal actions, constrained actions, refrained actions, subdued actions? Facts are what matters. Idioten! At least before, you were a bastard. Now, you’re just an inconsistent bag of air. Cretino!

finding a meaning

Resta qui con noi il sole scende già,
resta qui con noi Signore, è sera ormai.
Resta qui con noi il sole scende già,
se tu sei fra noi la notte non verrà.

Monday, March 12, 2018


And though you hold the keys to ruin
 Of everything I see
 With every prison blown to dust, 
My enemies walk free


Why worry, there should be laughter after pain
there should be sunshine after rain