Definição

marrakech
Originally uploaded by Mademoiselle Molly Fryxell

Chamei as palavras para me ajudarem na definição.
Foram poucas as que vieram.
Rejeitamos as metáforas e os eufemismos.
Foram poucas as que ficaram.
Procurei o verbo. Inventei o sujeito e forcei o objecto.

Encontrei o sentido.

Sometimes is black. some other times i wished it could be white. There's the rainbow in my head and i am not quite sure with which colour i should paint my heart.

paint and wash.
paint again and wash again.
Don't stop painting.
clean water during the night....

it is everyday a new colour, everyday a new painter. Maybe one day i'll find out which one was on it the day you washed my heart away.

bring the wine and cut cake.
i bought the balloons and decorated the place.
put my best dress and curled my hair.

there's no more wine and cake is untouched.
the chair with your name is empty and cold...

no more place for cigarettes on the ashtray...

A stranger has come
To share my room in the house not right in the head,
A girl mad as birds

Bolting the night of the door with her arm her plume.
Strait in the mazed bed
She deludes the heaven-proof house with entering clouds

Yet she deludes with walking the nightmarish room,
At large as the dead,
Or rides the imagined oceans of the male wards.

She has come possessed
Who admits the delusive light through the bouncing wall,
Possessed by the skies

She sleeps in the narrow trough yet she walks the dust
Yet raves at her will
On the madhouse boards worn thin by my walking tears.

And taken by light in her arms at long and dear last
I may without fail
Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars.


Dylan Thomas

João Pestana

Originally uploaded by Zack Attack.

Consta que lhe fechou os olhos, arrancou-lhe o sorriso da cara, despiu-a das energias que ela mesma cismava em arrastar...

Wortschatz

the thoughts that fill your mind at night 208/365
Originally uploaded by shes_jack

Wie viele Wörter braucht man, um jemanden zu verletzen?

Einwegbeziehung

Originally uploaded by Ellie Niemeyer

c'est ça.

o fim sem começo.

brincamos a adiar o começo.
tenho os pés sujos de terra molhada.
colaram-se ervas daninhas.
a embriaguez perturba a orientação.

finalmente.


cheguei para não entrar.

tenho os pés sujos de terra molhada.

e a chuva enferrujou o portão.

let's grow up and do some shit...

How much do you need?
Originally uploaded by Slightly Amazing Grace

fill the apartment with colourful baloons and blow them all - eat an ice cream on a winter day - get a sex toy - hug a stranger in the middle of the street - stand under the rain - build a treehouse - smoke & talk until daylight - leave the house with no shoes - believe in santa - make a picnic in the middle of the road - stop drinking coffee - watch cartoons on a sunday morning - write a letter to a good old friend - glue pictures on the ceiling - count shooting stars with a friend - jump for no reason - play hide&seek - read fairy tales - make fotos with a snowman - forget to be a grown up.

a janela

Scattered Crowd (i)
Originally uploaded by Pneumococcus

Passamos a vida preocupados com as formas do nosso próprio umbigo:

a primeira vez que respira no momento exacto em que decidimos nascer;
a dor deliciosa dos nossos excessos de chocolate;
a força com que se comprime quando o coração aperta;
as tonalidades que mostra naquelas tardes de verão á beira-mar;
a indisposição domingueira depois de uma noite com amigos;
os toques familiares de uma outra mão estranha;
os tamanhos diferentes;
as rugas;
as cicatrizes;
o frio;
e o calor...

cuidamos. guardamos. protegemos. aquecemos. sempre o nosso umbigo.

e num instante de rebeldia, viramos os olhos para a janela....

.... está a chover lá fora.

Soundtrack

Não importa o número de vezes que te ensine a sentir as pulsações da música para entrares no momento certo.



nem que seja só por birra...



... vais sempre entrar no tempo errado.




Como me irrita a tua falta de musicalidade!






foto extraída de: http://www.flickr.com/photos/brainfg/299955013/

bett : universum

westwood/chanel masquerade
Originally uploaded by Mademoiselle Molly Fryxell

alleine.
ich schenke dir meine einsamkeit und sehe dabei wie du verzweifelt damit umgehst. ich frage mich wer du bist, wohin du willst, woher du kommst.

ich zögere.

und rauche.

und trinke.



Wenn du meine einsamkeit schon hast, mir bleibt nur die übelkeit übrig.

Quando a lua se esqueceu de cobrir o sol

Nunca pedias licença para entrar. Arrebatavas a porta, largavas os pudores do lado de fora e recostavas-te na minha nudez. Gozavamos noite e as estrelas entre copos de vinho tinto e cinzas dos cigarros fumados para evitar as palavras. Tu nessa tua leveza de espírito que tão depressa te traz como te leva... e eu na esperança última que sol se esquecesse de nascer. Nesse silêncio nublado e extasiado, roubavas-me a postura e escondias-me debaixo do teu corpo, do teu suor, dos teus suspiros. Levavas-me a conhecer esses cantos da tua casa e eu ía abrindo as minhas portas para entrares. Fomos sempre poupando demasiado nas palavras para ganhar mais nos cheiros e nos sabores.

Dormíamos.

O sol trazia o esquecimento. Na manhã seguinte eras de novo o estranho que invadiu o meu castelo e o silêncio familiar tornava-se íncomodo.

Agora reconheço... não é o sol que sofre de amnésia. Mas sim a lua.

choked on a butterfly

and so it ends our story. it ends on the beginning. because the beginning is always something else's end. and sometimes there is no need to start it all over again.

she lay there. and if life would allow her a feeling... it would be happiness. No one really know who she was, where she came from... everyone knew her name because that's what you give when you want to have the chance to met others. but others never met her. she laughed, she cried, she jumped and she walked like everyone else....






.... and then she died. Some say she choked on a butterfly.

rehab...

Would you mind picking me up now?


It is cold in here and i'm feeling dirty and uncomfortable.

Fossem coisas e não sentimentos aquilo que buscamos nas nossas buscas e aventuras eternas...podiamos encher as palmas das nossas mãos em vez do coração.

Procuro-te aqui e ali na certeza de que nunca te vou encontrar por inteiro em nenhum outro lugar que não seja este nosso. Mas os meus pés não me deixam parar. Encontro clones falhados de pedaços teus, em formas diferentes das tuas, com cheiros distintos, sabores desconhecidos... e se me vou deixando ficar por esses outros sítios não é por conformismo mas por puro cansaço. Ás vezes é necessário parar por um momento... independemente do lugar, sem olhar ás circunstâncias.

Quando volto áquele nosso lugar vazio... exausta da caminhada trago nos bolsos poeiras incómodas do chão que pisei. Abro a janela para as deitar fora.

Amanhã hei-de ir buscá-las outra vez...

Die erzählung des braven schmetterlinges

Es war einmal ein ganz ganz klein und dichtes land. Es war ein land mit grenzen aus glas und dort haben viele schmetterlinge gewohnt. Die zeit aber malte gnadenlos die schöne glaswänder tag und nacht mit staub. So schnell haben auch die glückliche schmetterlinge auch vergessen wie die ausserwelt war.
Eines tages hörten sie eine stimme. Eine stimme, die über die unsichtbare welt erzählt hat. Sie hat erzählt und erzählt und erzählt. Unsere Schmetterlinge waren soooo glücklich, dass sie die ganze nacht geflogen sind, ohne schlaf zu finden. Am nächsten tag kam die stimme aber nicht. Und am zweiten tag auch nicht. Die traurige Schmetterlinge sind aus Angst krank geworden.

"Wo ist sie hin?" - fragte eine.
"Kommt sie irgendwann mal wieder?" - zweifelt der andere.

Sie fragten sich ob die stimme wirklich existiert oder ob sie vielleicht nicht alle nur davon geträumt haben. Vielleicht war sie nur einen schönen traum gewesen.

Viele nächte und viele tage später kam die stimme aber wieder. Aber doch die angst hatte ihre arbeit schon erledigt und die schwache schmetterlinge glaubte die erzählungen der stimme nicht mehr.

Plötzlich aus der stille der schmetterlinge kam einen kleinen braven schmetterling, der schüchtern sagte: "schickst du mir ein bild von deiner welt? wenn sie wirklich so schön ist, vielleicht komme ich nächstes mal mit..."

Was die geheimnisvolle stimme darauf antwortete haben sie mir leider nicht erzählt. Manchmal ist die zeit auch ganz böse und behielt das ende der schönen geschichte eines braven schmetterlinges nur für sich.

hide & seek

Originally uploaded by Olivia Bee

Wake me up before I sleep and I'll promise you that I'll concentrate
On only the last frame
Cover only one sound
Some kinda sweet, weird kinda strange around me
Wake me up before I sleep can't you see too many colours here,
colours there
colours everywhere
cover only one ground
the blackest of blacks I don't want to surround me
There's nothing I can say, that isn't gonna be
there's nothing I can do, that isn't gonna be a mistake
Wake me up before I sleep, I haven't had an inch of what I thought I got
from this awful high
cover me in one dye
just lie here with me we'll let the train go by
There's nothing I can say, that isn't gonna be
there's nothing in my way, I know it's gonna be a mistake




dEUS, Wake me up before i sleep

universum : bett

ich frage dich wie ich heisse, wer ich bin, meine lieblingsfarbe oder film oder lied.... du zögerst. Nackt...zünde ich eine zigarette an. ich ziehe langsam. du liegst genauso ungeschützt neben mir aber die zigarette ist das einzige was wir wirklich miteinander teilen. Komisch, das wort wir zu nutzen, wenn über dich und mich geredet wird.
erlaube mir deine hand zu holen. ich verstecke sie zwischen meine beine. du kennst mein körper




aber ich bin dir fremd.






foto: http://www.neon.de/kat/gallery/bild/212806/?comingfrom=best&bildid=212806

cool & doof

Plug it in and change the world.
Originally uploaded by Olivia Bee

If i bought those wings the other day it was not because i wanted to fly myself.

i'll cut them and sew them and prepare them to fit my heart.

I heard the world as corners so... when i'm finished i'll send my other to the corner opposite to the one you're living in... i just can't seem to handle loneliness when you are around.

Until then... i'll fill a box full of the feeling of you.

Where were you after all?

Originally uploaded by Sleeping bears

Ran Out of Emotional Supplies . Built a Castle to Hide, not to Live . Laid Naked on the Kitchen Floor . And Waited . Drowned in Wine . Scream Underwater . Smiled . Seemed ok . Choked on Packs of Cigarettes . Glued pictures on the ceiling . Counted sheeps to fall Asleep without Thinking of You . Cared More . Felt less . Painted imaginary Rainbows on the Floor . Spelled Poetry aloud . Read Books with Love Stories . Made Myself Silly . Felt Sorry . Walked around on Underwear . Sat on my Bed . Printed Pictures of You . Saved the Bad Taste on my Tongue . Touched the Empty Space next to Mine . Wrote Letters i Meant to send You . Made Love to You in My Dreams . Pretended to be a Princess . A Whore . A Woman . Fucked Memories of You . Talked to You in the Dark . And You never Called . Now . I guess I am Out of Ideas.