You feel the ecstasy as you watch me 

Lick my sour apple lollipop 

Return the kindness by having a slice 

of my homemade red velvet.

Get down on all fours and get real high with me

and please me real well.

I left my majestic cloak by the edge of your bed

Like a cold warning to any unwanted competitors 

That I exist in your life.

My mind and heart are constantly overwhelmed

With confusing visions of both happiness by your side

or a sad dance on a grave.

Do you feel equally insecure in us?

Or are my insecurities unreasonable?

Have I caught a lie of yours or were you just confused?

Do you know what you want from me?

When I try to flee you hold my arm and tell me to stay beside you

If I come close to you, you make me feel unwanted

And politely discharge me

Are you playing me?

We've waited months for this
You were so excited you got sick for it
I wish I had found some obtuse excuse not to make it
We didn't think this day would end
I hoped we'd want to see the stars 
Sprawled across the universe
As we'd get to know each other
But you much rather preferred an orange project
You wanted casual nudity
Popping some champagne with Molly
I'd give you my love
And let you float in me
Neither of us thought tonight could ever be so far from us
Just try to see me in the dark
Feel the fear before you come by
I really wanted this to work
But I had my faith
And so you pulled out
As you grow silent I hold my breath 
If only you were sure it was safe and sound
Rather than an long long wait
And far away from each other we went

 A minha mente está numa epífora

O que é ser adulta? Uma pergunta que paira na minha mente desde que tenho memórias, decidi usar esta coisa maravilhosa que é o Google para ver o significado:

"

• que ou o que atingiu o máximo do seu crescimento e a plenitude das suas funções biológicas.

  "homem, animal, planta a."

   

A resposta parece simples, no entanto a mim pessoalmente não me diz grande coisa. Quando era mais jovem, especialmente durante a minha "adolescência" (e as famosas crises e dilemas tão típicas desta fase) passava a vida a ouvir as pessoas "tão crescidas" dizerem-me "quando fores adulta vais compreender" e/ou "quando cresceres vais entender as coisas de forma diferente", e mais umas quantas frases super cliché, isto na altura deixava-me com a impressão que quando me tornasse adulta ia receber uma espécie de revelação incrivél e que seria transformada para o resto da minha vida...Yeah right. 

Hoje com 25anos, a vida supostamente feita (segundo os objectivos ideais das pessoas crescidas que me deram vida e educação), ainda não obtive a tal revelação incrivél. Portanto chego a duas possíveis conclusões a primeira sendo ela que deram-me todos uma grande tanga e que aquela conversa da treta era só para intimidar. A segunda opção é de que estavam sob efeito de alguma ilusão deprimente.

Hoje em dia continuo a ter as mesmas crises existênciais que tinha aos 13 anos (talvez mais), e também passei a ter novas crises. Continuo sem perceber as pessoas crescidas da minha vida (familia nuclear) e a insistência das mesmas em quererem (na altura) impôr-me os seus julgamentos baseados em "ouvi dizer que" e opiniões alheias, insistência em quererem moldar-me em algo que não era, nem sou! Na altura diziam-me que tudo aquilo era para meu bem, no entanto não resultou, diria mesmo que o deu no resultado contrário.

A unica coisa que pude confirmar é que os adultos conseguem ser mais criancinhas e fazer mais birrinhas do que uma criança de 5 anos. As pessoas crescidas são más, julgam e condenam o próximo pelo que faz e pelo que não faz, oferecem um sorriso na cara e uma facada nas costas, são hipócritas e miseráveis.

Ser adulta é sinceramente uma decepção...

At midnight, in the month of June,

I stand beneath the mystic moon.

An opiate vapor, dewy, dim,

Exhales from out her golden rim,

And, softly dripping, drop by drop,

Upon the quiet mountain top,

Steals drowsily and musically

Into the universal valley.

The rosemary nods upon the grave;

The lily lolls upon the wave;

Wrapping the fog about its breast,

The ruin molders into rest;

Looking like Lethe, see! the lake

A conscious slumber seems to take,

And would not, for the world, awake.

All Beauty sleeps!- and lo! where lies

Irene, with her Destinies!

O, lady bright! can it be right-

This window open to the night?

The wanton airs, from the tree-top,

Laughingly through the lattice drop-

The bodiless airs, a wizard rout,

Flit through thy chamber in and out,

And wave the curtain canopy

So fitfully- so fearfully-

Above the closed and fringed lid

'Neath which thy slumb'ring soul lies hid,

That, o'er the floor and down the wall,

Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall!

Oh, lady dear, hast thou no fear?

Why and what art thou dreaming here?

Sure thou art come O'er far-off seas,

A wonder to these garden trees!

Strange is thy pallor! strange thy dress,

Strange, above all, thy length of tress,

And this all solemn silentness!

The lady sleeps! Oh, may her sleep,

Which is enduring, so be deep!

Heaven have her in its sacred keep!

This chamber changed for one more holy,

This bed for one more melancholy,

I pray to God that she may lie

For ever with unopened eye,

While the pale sheeted ghosts go by!

My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep

As it is lasting, so be deep!

Soft may the worms about her creep!

Far in the forest, dim and old,

For her may some tall vault unfold-

Some vault that oft has flung its black

And winged panels fluttering back,

Triumphant, o'er the crested palls,

Of her grand family funerals-

Some sepulchre, remote, alone,

Against whose portal she hath thrown,

In childhood, many an idle stone-

Some tomb from out whose sounding door

She ne'er shall force an echo more,

Thrilling to think, poor child of sin!

It was the dead who groaned within.

Edgar Allan Poe

The demons toke my heart away

10 years together!

“But to die as lovers may - to die together, so that they may live together.” - J. Sheridan Le Fanu, Carmilla

 "Comme un tout jeune oiseau qui tremble et qui palpite,
J'arrecherai ce coeur tout rouge de son sein,
Et, pour rassasier ma bête favorite,
Je le lui jetterai par terre avec dêdain!" 

Charles Baudelaire