Ontem acordei assim. Hoje acordei assim. Amanhã deverei acordar assim.

"Old Shit / New Shit"

Everyone loves you
Nobody cares
An awful collection
Of enemies and friends
Congratulations to you
With sad regrets
I'm tired of the old shit
Let the new shit begin

The psychic pain
Of living in this world
Is overwhelming me
Again and again
A beautiful afternoon
Inside you in your bed
I'm tired of the old shit
Let the new shit begin

Nobody loves you
Everyone cares
None of them know what's
Coming 'round the bend
Congratulations to me
Many happy returns
I'm tired of the old shit
Let the new shit begin
Eels - Blinking Lights and Other Revelations

(foto de João Coutinho)

Ela tem um peso enorme sobre o peito. Sente o mar frio a rebentar aos seus pés e despede-se da inocência. Pede aos céus que lhe lave as lágrimas desfeitas na areia de água muito fria. Porque podia haver dores piores.

Por fim, senta-se. Desistindo.

Foi há muito tempo atrás, na sua ilusão de menina de tranças que achava que iria ganhar o mundo. E foi na desilusão de crescer que percebeu perder-se. Do mundo.

Ela tem as mãos frias de tudo. Sente o ar fresco e agradece. O sangue que sente escorrer nas veias não é dela. De ninguém.

Os meninos um-dó-li-tá correm na bolina à sua volta. Sabe que não percebe nada. Não sente.

Porque foi há muito tempo atrás que lhe prometeram mentiras. E não sabe quando voltam os carrascos que lhe vão arrancar essas verdades pastel, cor da lua.

“Um, dois, três, macaquinho chinês”. O que foi suposto. Só. Não termina. Ergue as pernas que a vida começa aqui.

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!

The world forgetting, by the world forgot.

Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
"Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;"
Desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n,
Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n.
Grace shines around her with serenest beams,
And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams.
For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,
And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes,
For her the Spouse prepares the bridal ring,
For her white virgins hymeneals sing,
To sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away,
And melts in visions of eternal day.

Far other dreams my erring soul employ,
Far other raptures, of unholy joy:
When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day,
Fancy restores what vengeance snatch'd away,
Then conscience sleeps, and leaving nature free,
All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee.
Oh curs'd, dear horrors of all-conscious night!
How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight!
Provoking Daemons all restraint remove,
And stir within me every source of love.
I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms,
And round thy phantom glue my clasping arms.
I wake—no more I hear, no more I view,
The phantom flies me, as unkind as you.
I call aloud; it hears not what I say;
I stretch my empty arms; it glides away.
To dream once more I close my willing eyes;
Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise!
Alas, no more—methinks we wand'ring go
Through dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe,
Where round some mould'ring tower pale ivy creeps,
And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.
Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies;
Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise.
I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect find,
And wake to all the griefs I left behind.

por Alexander Pope