30 de jun de 2010

Noise


When you think everything is nothing more than a lie... when everything is nothing more than a meaningless succession of acts... that's when you start thinking "Should I do something about this?", "Why is everything so hollow?",
"I see the windows, the pots, the bedroom, the belongings of others... and yet, it seems that nothing matters, and I don't want to do anything about it. Maybe I'm afraid... Maybe I'm tired of what I've been living for the last eleven years... Maybe, if everything were to be different, I'd still be me. If you'd talk to me differently, smile differently, do different things to me... I'd still feel the same. I just see a hollow crack around my reflection, and it aches so much at this moment when I see that people are just people... and you can't bother to understand them, because you know that won't make any significant contribution to your fucking miserable life. You listen , but don't want to do what people think is right, and you'll get all fucked up if you don't. You know that, but it seems to not matter. I, or you, can rot in this perpetuous meaningless. You just found yourself in a big, dark, damp and black hole. The sun seems to be growing tired of doing its job... if It even cares. The boy would tell all of this to someone... if someone even cared. But it seemed that he was so alone, among thousands."

Yes... it is getting colder.

Nikku

21 de jun de 2010

Fatos


Por que você não escuta?
Encontro-me às vezes perdido, e lá está você, com seus bolsos cheios de nuvens e olhos cheios de dor. Sei que quer voar, achar no seu interior algo que chame atenção ao exterior.

Hoje colhi asas de memórias que queriam deixar minha cabeça decapitada... e você era um pássaro.
Não consigo mais lembrar dos dias em que você sorria... em que você era você. Esconde-se agora com sapatos de veludo e cigarros sem fumaça. Encontro no seu quarto restos mortais dos seus olhos que um dia me disseram "vai dar tudo certo." Você se matou por dentro... agora deixou uma casca com feridas. Feridas estas com atributos virais... pois contaminaram a mim também, e agora vejo-me tentando achar penas para ver se reclamo as suas asas.
O fato de você viver tornou-se inevitável... se pudesse, entregava-se ao mar para ir às nuvens. A voz não se dissipa mais no ar... ela fica remoendo em mim, a quem você matou.

Nikku

20 de jun de 2010

"I want to see the blue sky
I put the trigger in my hand to my crazed brain."