"endless torture bring endless pain, endless torture bring endless pain"
"endless torture bring endless pain, endless torture bring endless pain"
And there was a deep day when I woke and that constant mantra kept hammering on my head. The blackness of the moist cellar was no longer a suprise of horror to me, I was used to the feeling of suffocation, even though I was quite able to breath -- what I missed here was not air or light.
Light was but a desire, and air there's in abundance. The problem with breathing is that it's a involuntary event, one to which we becomed used and utterly bored about once we reach a certain age. So is with life: you live and no longer care about living. It's as common as waking up in the middle of the night to take a piss: you are only half-concious about it; it happens and will happen without your interference, but sometimes it's a little more than a dream. So we struggle to recover the feeling that we lost, risking our blood over nothing more than a few moments of feeling alive, and is our responsibility to keep this thing, this darkness of the night that pursues me even into my dream, and
"endless torture bring endless pain, endless torture bring endless pain"
"endless torture bring endless pain, endless torture bring endless pain"
which is quite obvius, as endless running will bring endless weariness, but still that dark soul of the corner, that image that does not leave my mind...
A black shape, a winged black shape, a winged nightmare seens to pass over my body now, as I stand, fully awaken in the midst of skycrapers of metal and flesh, and I feel my hand linger, hold in the air and then fall and bring me down to this puddle of my own sickness... my own dark blood, this essence of life condemned to flow through a cracked vessel of despair and madness that I can no longer break, for it's a prision, and prision from which nothing can escape, because no one is imprisioned but indeed kept safe in there...
And the vision blurs with the ideia, and all goes dark again, and
"endless torture bring endless pain, endless torture bring endless pain"
"endless torture bring endless pain, endless torture bring endless pain"
1 comment:
Esta foi uma tentativa (fracassada, admito) de praticar algo conhecido como Stream Of Counciosness Writing... eu não estudei o processo, só sabia mais ou menos sobre oq consistia e meti bala no processo.
O texto em si foi impulsionado pela frase que se repete seis vezes, que de repente pinto na minha cabeça um dia... EU achei curioso, principalmente por que ela NÃO é poética, ela é obvia (afinal, tortura traz dor e tortura eterna tem que trazer dor eterna).
Bom, o resto fica pra próxima, lembrando que eu tenho meia dúzia de textos antigos pra postar aqui, mas os melhores são WIP.
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