today,
I woke up
with the purpose of
breaking you some news.

I am not your life project,
I will never be and, most importantly,
I don’t want to be.
 
drinking coffee,
while,
filling my lungs with smoke.
that’s a picture you may keep.

have you ever even wondered why I smoke?
there is this illusion of power,
it makes me feel in control,
even if it translates to,
depriving myself from some more minutes over the earth.
 
paradoxically, it keeps me moving and wishing to live
those few minutes longer,
even if I’m consciously burning them.

my routine, my maze, my control,
does not require a space and time
logical sequence.

my maze relies on a selected sequence of thoughts.
space and time serve my wishes as I please.

I was carrying myself
through the streets
and I felt your eyes going
further downtown
and I asked myself:
“why do you insist on going down?”

I have been there,
for quite some time
and God,
I know.
the thrill, the addiction, the darkness.

I was really in love with it all.
but,
now I know
it will never lead you to your own destiny.
keep digging
you will never find
water
light
nor fire.
only dust
and ashes.

I thought to myself:
“I’ll show you how beautiful
life can be,
how plastic and fertile our
minds can be,
anything can flourish
even
dead souls.”

I crossed the street and met you,
but
even today,
I’m still not sure if you were there
in front of me
or
if it was just your body
standing there
without soul.
I’ve seen it.
the eyes of a body without soul
have a white ending on the back of the skull.
your eyes looked so confined, so limited.

a few words and I had you on my net.
a mindless body is easy to hook.
I know how to do it, yep,
I’m a bitch.
but,
do you know why?
I have never had to make an effort
to find real beauty
and reasons to live.
there is so much,
and there are so many, baby.

“but none of it is perfect”, you cried.

how can you be so naive?
of course, it’s not perfect.
perfection is a subjective concept.
it does not exist per si, darling,
although,
I can assure you
I have seen so much perfection
throughout these years.
when you find it
it’s mind blowing.

“you make no fucking sense”, you shouted.

I know,
that’s where I met my perfection.
my mind is flawed as fuck
probably more than yours.
the difference?
I’m too much of a wise twisted unbeliever
that
I can actually make it work.

do you understand this?
have you tried hard enough?
to find yourself
your truth
your amour propre
your simulated perfection.

they are all there, baby,
I promised you that
and I didn’t lie.
you just have to search.
and
most of all
you must be willing to drop
your simulated misery,
STOP.
pitying yourself.

you are not special
not in the way you believe to be.
there are no exclusive problems.
the world is not against you.
by now, I hope this is not news.
nobody cares enough
to have a problem in you
to wage wars at you.

you will
always
be
your own
unique
and worst
enemy.

does this enrage you?
shit, you are candid.

I know it’s fucked up,
and yet,
passionately
magnificent.

fuck,
I love myself so much,
darling,
I would fuck me,
right now.
you have no clue
how far my ego
flies.

and God,
how I hate myself,
baby,
I would run from me,
right now.
you have no idea
how low my self-esteem
drops.

most of the times,
I’m not remotely
who I want to be
who I can be.
I’m lazy in my totipotent self.

all is blurred
messed up
inside
and
outside.
but,
somehow,
I always know
what I’m doing,
what I’m capable of
why I’m moving
where I’m going.
can you brag about this?
I know,
you can’t.

I can tell it by the way
you carry yourself
you breath
you stare
you touch.
 
dropping on your knees,
looking up at me,
you asked,
like a vagabond
“do you need me?”
implying your own bondage.

I don’t need you,
major difference:
I want you.

I can count by
less than the fingers of a hand
the people I need.
you are not one of them.
I’m cold?
I would say sincere.

needing is nothing compared to
wanting, desiring.
needing comes easy baby.
wanting has this unbearable effort.
to be there.
turning the world upside down
to keep the thirsty beast steady.

you should be hating me by now,
but do you?

you may believe
I have promised you the world
when I only meant
to promise you
your own coordinates.

you see, you exist
you are here.
I tend to promise
reality.
the world is not always here for us.

God promises you heaven.
you refuse to believe.
there lies your anger.
but me,
I’ve been in there,
I don’t need the holly spirit,
it’s my own promise, my own cross.

I fall and I rise at my own tempo.
I am just as vulnerable as I am imune.
I am as much of a devil as I am a saint.
I measure it.

I miss you, you know?
really.
can you say the same?
do you miss me,
or,
the feeling I’ve caused you?

I have never thought of myself
as a good person,
sorry,
maybe I have not preached it well enough.

my mind thinks a lot,
there’s rationale
and logic
to every bit of movement
or lack of it.
just another piece to the fucking masterpiece puzzle.

motivations are pure
and also processed,
loosing the warmth
in between.

so, if I told you
“I love you”.
I did.
probably still do.
I can’t give up on feelings.
but
also,
for once,
I am not coming back. but,
also,
I have never left.

‘cause I’m never where I want to be.
past (lived and not lived)
present
and future-yet-to-come,
I bring them all to the table.

I don’t scare easily,
I like to give in,
but I don’t know how to,
I can’t.

when I do,
I’m all in, baby,
with everything I have in my hands,
as far as I can go,
I dive,
as deep as I can.

But,
what I give may not be what you expect.
that’s the problem of needing.
absorption.
absorbing me.
I am not remotely
absorbable.
I haven’t overlapped myself,
you won’t overlap me.
why?
passion is not everything.
it’s awe.
never enough.
I’m skeptical enough
to never ending questions,
to never ending stories.
the further you walk,
the further you need to keep walking.
don’t get comfortable on the hallway
when there is a full house
waiting to get fucked.

now, stop rambling,
forgiveness,
mercy is not in my hands
at this point.

I tell you:
only God forgives,
only God has mercy,
and still,
not always.

look how it turned out for Him.