Páginas

10 de agosto de 2013

to the surface of my dead skin

its been a while. today i had the "brilliant" idea of going back in time; i searched for those terrible songs and read some letters i never sent (and never will). the feeling is quite misleading... quite tricky. so many years have passed and i never really understood... today, confident that it is all burried in the past - ok, not such a distant past, but still... - i tested my innermost feelings by pressing play. the result: i still dont get it, goddammit. and to make things worse, i still know
e v e r y
s i n g l e
w o r d
of 
those letters that encourage self-flagellation.
(wish i had such a fantastic memory for more useful things. and happier things) 
i dont know why i do this to myself. 
one reason why i like to live far away: i'm not constantly plagued by heartbreaking memories. and by the fear - desire? - of sinking myself, once again, in the same old tides...
but the roots ... oh, the rotten roots will always be there, like a dead skin that will never ever renew.



Enviar um comentário