You wake up every morning and sing to the mirror: I think you are crazy. The answer is: I’ll see you in a next life.
Masochist, you listen to those songs you, consciously, don’t want to. “That’s not me”, it says. And you keep torturing yourself. Congratulate yourself every day.

Just don’t leave. But who leaves it’s me. Again and again. – The eternal return.
I’m not living, I’m just killing time, because your tiny shiny sweet strongly lovely hand is a sea away from mine. That’s all. Just don’t leave. Or wait. According to this musical masochism, true love waits. And so do I.

Meus tempos de inocência

It was a very sunny day, time when the wools drink tea under the trees, when Alice broke his cup of vodka. She was flying high with the thoughts about the Wonderland when her psycho mind sent some bad messages and her hand could, incredibly, brake a strong glass cup. Strange? No, just the begging of a terrific afternoon!
Yes! Terrific, magic! At least, more than the others… She looked at her bloody hand, and started to think how magnific life is. Worms in the earth… Do they have blood? So, she went to the yard and dig a lot.
Some ‘water’ was falling from her forehead when decided to stop digging. Smiling as a child she fell asleep. Dreaming of monsters she woke up yelling:
- Where is my hot chocolate?
- Over the shadows of the lullaby clouds, girl! Go there and take it!
Taking her magic scissor she cut the clouds, flying as a fish, so she could reach the cold cup with hot chocolate.

2006/1

Bom, você usa bermudas e casaco, come despretensiosamente, aguenta olhos ardentes e ligações sem tanto sentido. Muito bom, bom mesmo. Tosse como um cão velho pela manhã, os olhos selados na madrugada, as melhores intenções do dia morfam e viram superherois incompreendidos. Ótimo, isso só melhora. Você, ainda, desdenha quem é bom, posterga pensando no feriado e vive essa mediocridadezinha, jogando a vida pra frente e pondo em riste esse seu dedo branco e fraco. Maravilha. A cretinice só cresce, como sua fome, seu sono, sua inércia, sua curiosidade, astúcia falaciosa e postura, lego por lego, construída. Por fim, parabéns.