temo que daqui a dez anos
a minha geração terá milhões e milhões de vídeos e fotografias
e nada para mostrar.
boas ideias para sabotar a nossa vida
sábado, 3 de agosto de 2013
quinta-feira, 20 de junho de 2013
dói-me a cabeça. mas só do lado do ventrículo esquerdo.
abaixo do átrio.
a insistir para lá das cordas.
a insistir para lá das cordas.
segunda-feira, 24 de dezembro de 2012
quarta-feira, 19 de dezembro de 2012
perdi
I've lost my notebook.
I've lost a poem.
It was a great one.
It was eleven pages long.
It was about my father saying he couldn't hear me.
It was about the X I cut into the back of my hand.
It was about seeing yet another friend on heroin.
It was about that little boy kicking that bird to death.
It was about the four leaf clover someone sent me.
It was about the time I could not stop sleeping.
It was about mailing anonymous hate letters.
It was about finding bruises all over my legs.
It was about the bartender who wouldn't let me pay.
It was about trying to find the cool spot on the pillow.
It was about the lipstick I stole from a girl's medicine cabinet.
It was about seeing my favorite poet shake when she gave a reading.
It was about the tape I ripped out of someone's answering machine.
It was about the friend who banged on my door and I did not let her in.
It was about watching MTV after school and wondering if I'd look like that when i grow up.
It was about my mother lying on the kitchen floor and the dog licking her face.
It was about what happened when I forgot how much Milk my boyfriend liked in his coffee.
It was about the time I read someone's diary and ripped out the pages about me.
It was about going to the bus station and not knowing where I was going.
It was about coming in late from a movie and kissing through the credits.
It was about the car I could not drive.
It was about my party when no one came.
It was about the last time you touched me.
It was about the way you walked away.
It was the best thing I've ever written.
It was everything I wanted to say.
I've lost my notebook.
I've lost a poem.
I've lost a poem.
It was a great one.
It was eleven pages long.
It was about my father saying he couldn't hear me.
It was about the X I cut into the back of my hand.
It was about seeing yet another friend on heroin.
It was about that little boy kicking that bird to death.
It was about the four leaf clover someone sent me.
It was about the time I could not stop sleeping.
It was about mailing anonymous hate letters.
It was about finding bruises all over my legs.
It was about the bartender who wouldn't let me pay.
It was about trying to find the cool spot on the pillow.
It was about the lipstick I stole from a girl's medicine cabinet.
It was about seeing my favorite poet shake when she gave a reading.
It was about the tape I ripped out of someone's answering machine.
It was about the friend who banged on my door and I did not let her in.
It was about watching MTV after school and wondering if I'd look like that when i grow up.
It was about my mother lying on the kitchen floor and the dog licking her face.
It was about what happened when I forgot how much Milk my boyfriend liked in his coffee.
It was about the time I read someone's diary and ripped out the pages about me.
It was about going to the bus station and not knowing where I was going.
It was about coming in late from a movie and kissing through the credits.
It was about the car I could not drive.
It was about my party when no one came.
It was about the last time you touched me.
It was about the way you walked away.
It was the best thing I've ever written.
It was everything I wanted to say.
I've lost my notebook.
I've lost a poem.
Lost de Nicole Blackman
segunda-feira, 17 de dezembro de 2012
sábado, 15 de dezembro de 2012
sexta-feira, 14 de dezembro de 2012
memória
no verão de 2006 fechei-me na dispensa de um amigo e gravei isto.
tinha 22 anos.
(o original pertence aos belgas dEUS)
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