birthday

She lives in this house over there
Has her world outside it
Scrapples in the earth with her fingers and her mouth
She's five years old

Thread worms on a string
Keeps spiders in her pocket
Collects fly wings in a jar
Scrubs horse flies
And pinches them on a line
Ohhh...

She has one friend, he lives next door
They're listenening to the weather
He knows how many freckles she's got
She scratches his beard

She's painting huge books
And glues them together
They saw a big raven
It glided down the sky
She touched it
Ohh...

Today is a birthday
They're smoking cigars
He's got a chain of flowers
And sows a bird in her knickers
Ohhh...

They're smoking cigars
They lie in the bathtub
A chain of ... flowers




A.

Verão

Immature

How could I be so immature ?
To think she could replace,
The missing elements in me,
How extremely lazy of me

How could I be so immature ?
To think she could replace,
The missing elements in me,
How extremely lazy of me.

How could I be so immature ?
How could I be so immature ?

caminhas só

tu, e olhes para onde quiseres, é esse o caminho.


esse

querido diário.

não sei se já escrevi sobre esta sensação mas se sim repito-me (como costume)

sinto que algures quando tinha uns 18 ou 19 anos parei. deixei de crescer. congelei a imagem do mundo no meu interior e assim ficou. estática, um ou outro pormenor entra mas quase tudo fica de fora. o que eu vejo no espelho, o trato com os outros, a minha forma de sentir... os meus medos. a mesma pessoa a viver realidades diversas e com os mesmos argumentos para lidar com elas.

estranho porque as coisas de facto mudam, quase tudo muda...