Woods: Isolation branches, hidden shadows digging in silence, growing, moving away from myself, dingy smell his stamp.
I don't know when the mirror broke, but I started to see through it.
Lying on my bed, I close my eyes, it seems like i'm sleeping, open my eyes and the light is dim, close my eyes and open them again, i'm dreaming, but it's not a common dream, I have to run away, I wish just disappear when I open it the eyes, still awake, this is still here, in silence.
M.
I met you in dead of night, we were trying to survive, I didn't have to look twice, you were there, as always, with the music on your side.
You're a fancy boy, but you don't have anything of fancy, you're invisible like wind, freedom runs in your veins.
I was floating on insomnia in my spirits nights, my legs fell towards to you, on hollow. When I saw your eyes it was between on mine, you're on my skin, and I enter in yours through to the moonlight, in a natural way, like your unfinished heart. M.
[car door closing sound]
She knew everything,this love only suffocated her, when they talked, all she heard was, don't love you and I never have, you always stay doing it easy.
[Road started]
Rolls down the window glass, because she feels she's not breathing, fucking waste of time: thought.
[¨nothing in my way¨ coming from radio]
He has been thinking, for a few days: I love her, I feel like trash, and now I understand that if there is someone who can cure me, it's her....
You know, H....
In the curve, he steps on the brake, the tires sound on the pavement, they fall. The car is between two trees, he feels dizzy, he blinks to recover, he speaks to her, but she doesn't respond, turns to she, but, there is a branch crossed in her neck with a sad and distant eyes.
In the funeral, he feel completely empty, no tears, is like, if seeing his eyes that time, they would have emptied all his blood, his heart couldn't beat.
six months later, hangs himself.
Oh, shocking blue love. M.
all is crap
so, I'm bussy today
I'm going to dissipate
I'm bussy today
all is crap. M.
I. Interlude
I had a dream, I woke up in the backyard, wrapped in sharp & pointed branches & the easiest way to escape was to cross to the other side of the yard. When I came out, I could see a big white house & a shadow of a man standing in the window. As the days go by, my dream repeats itself, but the silhouette of the man is becoming more & more clear-cut.
II. Prison
My head in a bag, I passed out.
III. Conception
Now I'm inside of the big white house, I can look out the window, but I can't get out. I can scream but, I can't hear my voice. I feel like in a bottom of deep ocean, no light, no sound, except of him.
Him has a routine, so quiet, & don't notice me, but sometimes is in my back, & I can't move, his cold could break my bones.
He can become like another person, expressions & his movements change, & it doesn't matter if I run, or if I can hide, he always find me, face to face, catch you: he says.
Now, I understand, he knows me.
IV. Departure
While I was standing in front of the window, I touched the glass & it was warm, so many memories came to me, of what it was, freedom. So far away, caged, I let it go all this, all that I was, & all I had, I dreamed of being wind, I run & run, my steps every time become more heavy, but I don't stop, he's coming after to me, I can hear his light footsteps, & now, I have it. Lighters.
When I burn myself, I woke, in my backyard & in the other side, the big white house, it wasn't there.
Dedicated to people suffering from depression, with love: M.
Part II
''In general, respiration is nothing more than a slow combustion of carbon and hydrogen, wich is completely similar to that produced in a lamp or a candle that illuminates and, from that point of view, animals that breathe are combustible bodies that they burn and consume themselves''. Lavosier
