I'm not Depressed

An old birthday balloon
(Out of breath, somewhat bated)
I hum my jingles out of tune
One-hit-wonders soon outdated
Like a song without sound
Mourning a muted meltdown
I’m at the point of no concern
For my inability to yearn
I am -
Whatever comes after
The past, the future
The cries, and the laughter
I remain –
Whatever came before
The purple rain, the midnight train
The virgin and the whore
I am a pixelated painting
Understood by few
Inexplicably containing
Little drops of you
You’re my middle C
A sepia photograph
Of my mundane eulogy
And my previous epitaph
You are my bitter half
The gall in my bladder
My nervous laugh
My endless chatter
You’re my history rewritten
My once shy, twice-bitten
My state-of-the-art
You’re the bottom of my heart
The top of my lungs
You’re my talking in tongues
The motivational quote
In my suicide note
And although I’ll never be free
From this heart on my sleeve
I’ll always wish you to be
The Adam to my Eve.

I Hate Love

Have you ever been in love? horrible, isn't it?
It  makes you so vulnerable.
it opens your chest and it opens up your heart and and it means that someone get inside you and mess up you. You build up all these defenses,you build up a whole suit of armor.

So that nothing can to hurt you, so one stupid person, no different form any other stupid person wanders into your stupid life... you give them a piece of you.
They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb someday,like kiss you or smile at you .
And so, your life is not your own anymore.

Love takes hostages.
It gets inside you, it eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness. So simple a phase like' maybe we should be just friends'  turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart, It's hurt.
No just in the imagination, no just in the mind,
It's a soul- hurt ,a real gets- inside- you and - rips- you - apart pain.
I hate love.

Realize

Dificil analizar o que de fato parece estar tão longe,tão incomun,tão lindo... que desnumbra.
Ocasiões são raras entre os desacasos,que chegam  dentre pensamentos constantes e asombrosos.
Pessoas que falam o que pensam, pessoas que não pensam, que não falam... nada.
Tudo tão commun,tão hilário,o riso,o choro... a vontade,que não passa.
Essa Ilusão quase mata o realismo  natural do rumo incerto,que muda,muda as horas,muda o dia,muda o mundo,a poesia,a razão,o motivo maior,da vivência do ser,CRESCER.

Dilúvio

Tudo permanece inerte,como sempre foi.
Nada é como se parece,bebemos fantasia,
vestimos ilusão.
Tudo passou outra vez.

Escute no silêncio, não é lindo ?
Paredes,janelas...quarto pequeno e escuro,absoleto.
A vida vazia sem rumo,sem direção,inquieta, obscura.

Sabe quando te prendem a algo inútil ?
Não venha me falar em conhecimento absoluto,na vida eterna ou na luz divina;
Não me fale em comprimidos ou pílulas fantásticas.
Nada serve a quem sofre por besteira.

Um dia verás que falo a verdade...
A vida rege a morte, e o bem o mal.
Somos como crianças desavisadas do perigo,
Brincando perto de serpentes sedentas, prontas pra atacar.
Olhe dentro dos meus olhos, enxerga o caos vivente ?

      What should need to find that make me feel alive and satisfied in this world?
      I worder... and miss you.

Untitled.

Sometimes i take a Shower
with the lights off.
But before i even finish showering, i turn the lights back On,
because i remember how afraid of the dark i am.

Sometimes i go to the airport
and just sit in there for a few hours.
Because i like watching people reunite.

Sometimes i cut my fingernails way too short;
like, down to the quicks.
Because it’s an odd feeling, the way my fingertips hurt
every time i touch something.

Sometimes i go out in public without my shoes,
because i like feeling the real ground,
not just the inside of my shoes.

Sometimes i re-arrange my bedroom,
but then i change it right back
because everyone knows that there isn’t a single person
in the world that isn’t afraid of change.

Sometimes i try reading books upside-down
because i think thats what it would be like if i couldn’t
read
at all.

Sometimes i just sit and watch the grass grow,
because we’re lucky that it even grows in the first
place.

Sometimes i do things.
Sometimes i don’t.

How long?

How long?
ohh
how long?
what can i let to pass more?
How much time we have?
How long?
And it'll worth?
How long  to think?
How long to let the things goes on?
ohh
what to do before we say,how long?
what will be after 'so long?'

By:TatyDelacroix