abyssal

je veux une mélange
entre moi et toi
je veux près de ma gorge
ton étrange voix
je veux pas l'ange
des malheurs du soir
je veux que mes songes

[de violence

noient en ton sec abîme du vouloir

- je ne veux que
nos angoisses

sobreposição

das tuas vestes negras
ó irmã sagrada e virulenta
vejo só as barras de teus
mantos sobrepostos com o
fervor da fé maledicente
digo-te agora por ora e depois
que queria mesmo era ver
tuas sandálias tuas botas
que pisam na lama que
zombam dos olhos da salamandra
perspicaz que com melindre
e graça baila por entre
teus pés num gingado tão
dela que tuas ancas querem
imitar mas ela a salamandra
é quem zomba de ti e do teu
fervor da fé maledicente
quero que na lama em que tu pisas
fique só a marca do corpo
filigranado da salamandra
que tuas sandálias tuas botas
e suas marcas sejam a
ferida aberta e ferina de
uma alma escancarada revirada
e que o adeus da salamandra
e seu sorriso forjado no fogo do ardil
te doam te dilacerem
até o fim
do teu fervor

A Basement Short

- When he was a child, he thought that every problem would be solved by snapping his fingers. It was not scientifically proved, but, to him, to his own science, it was certain, even more certain than loneliness. As one would think, his parents were not that much into his way of seeing, or snapping, life. In an autumn day, he felt like doing some researches about the house where he had been living since his first memories, even though he knew that his parents moved to that place only when he was three years and seven days old. There was a basement where he was never meant to be. He decided to go there in order to finish in a serious way his research. He couldn't reach the door knob when he got to the basement's entrance, but, fortunately, he still had his finger to snap. Snap snap snap. He tried again to reach the opening device and he finally opened it! The basement was completely different of the rest of the house. He could listen to a smooth voice singing a lullaby - it was his mother's voice. He started going down the stairs when the voice started to sing louder, but smoothly still. It was all dark in the cave and he couldn't find something to turn the lights on, so he sat on the stairs. He was alone in the house, and, if someone arrived, they wouldn't think about searching him in the basement. Once, his father said that he kept there some old things and some other things that no one would like to see again. The boy tried to see beyond that black and heavy curtain spread before him, but he couldn't see anything, he could just listen to the same lullaby, repeting over and over again. Anxiously, he began to go down, again, the stairs as if he was running from something. Taking off the glasses, he couldn't breath properly. Suddenly, he heard that someone was arriving in the front door, it was just one someone. The boy stopped all that anxiety. He could listen to some murmurs. And somenone was crying.
- For god's sake, it's your seventh year on this couch and you're still telling all these stories as if they weren't yours... I'm a shrink, I know, but ain't this gentle and patient as I should be. Take this card, it's from a guy I know.
- So, what am I supposed to do? These stories are not mine!
- Oh, fuck off! I'm an analyst, I know what I'm doing. Just fucking call that number and do not appear again on this couch!