sexta-feira, 21 de maio de 2010

Âme douloureuse...

Alma dorida... Machucada... Confusa... Amargurada... Solitária. Fadada a nunca encontrar a paz. Comprometida com o sofrimento. Uma dor represada. Precisando abrir a comporta na esperança de algum alívio. Desenhando sua história em um compasso. Círculos, elipses, onde tudo isso começou? Não importa. Sempre sem um começo ou fim. O tempo já não é medido em dias, horas ou segundos, mas breves momentos de alegrias. Pequenos intervalos em sua contínua dor. Sentimentos que encontrou uma porta aberta, entrou, se apossou dela e lá fez sua casa. Comparece então a todos os eventos. Todos os momentos. Sempre à vontade. Alma cansada... Acomodada... Incompleta. Ontem, hoje, sempre dorida, sempre sem dono.

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Sore soul... Painful... Confuse... Bitterness... Loneliness. Condemned to never find the piece. Compromised with the pain. Dammed pain waiting to open the gate in hope of some relief. Drawing its history into a compass. Circles, ellipses, where did it begin? Doesn't matter. Always without an end or begin. Time isn't measured on days, hours or seconds anymore, but little moments of joy. Little intervals into a continuous pain. Feelings that had found the door opened, came in, took possession and there made its home. Present now on all events. Every moment. Always making itself comfortable. Tired soul... wrapped in... Incomplete. Yesterday, today, always bruised, always loneliness.

2 comentários:

  1. Work driving you nuts? I thought you had a new guy sharing the load now, is he not being as helpful as you had hoped or did something new come up? You post sounds like my second year of high school.

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  2. Its a still life that I will no doubt have to put back together a hundred times because my mom keeps moving the subjects around. An old bottle, an apple, a watering can, a plant, and two miniature corn cobs. Not really exciting.

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