c
literature

ceifeiras na manha fria flores

aratak's avatar
By aratak   |   Watch
0 196 (1 Today)
Published: August 12, 2007
Trying to take the meaning off a word won't do a thing for you. You can poke yourself in the eye some sort of personal auto-lobotomy with a sharp ethereal object and you can cut off your ears, but the word is there, it's been said, it's growing inside your mind no matter how deaf or blind you've turned willingly to.
time is linear but the understanding of it may not be, and we understand you want to get rid of what is already there and what can't be erased.
a kiss on a scar of a dismantled personality, left and right, black and red, identity divided into one that says
I don't know who I am or how I got here, but it's okay because I know I am not alone and I will come through and bring closure. Because this is the truth.
and the black one says
i know who i am and i know what you are and i may not follow things through but its not my job to either all i have to do is understand the song and the meaning of it.
[neonistic]
Every song has a meaning, every feeling has a tune, and a melody is better identified with once you know what is talking about. For that kind of knowledge you have to be able to sacrifice a little bit of your soul, and a great deal of your heart, and pretty much whatever is left of your mind. A bit of Romance, an underlying Passion for anything, and a Nihilist semi-cosmic perception are the three traits of what you must love and end up hating. After that music can be used to feel, and you can discard true feeling, then fake it, then feel it for real.
Silence is a must. A lie is never a work of art if it's conceived in a noisy environment (that one being in your mind and not your present location), it becomes one once you believe it, once you can love and hate and cry and smile and whatever it is you people do these days.
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© 2007 - 2019 aratak
na campa lhe vão por

ficou vermelha a campina do sangue que então brotou


OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH


sorry I can't find a title for this so it'll be the verses of what i'm listening to.
did a small revision, it's chapter four of whatever I was trying to write at the time.
this was written 2 months something ago, right after i broke up with much of myself
much much joy and no underlying emotion or event has been written here.
it's satire.

it's all just a load o'bollocks innit?


half a cheer for Klaymen! hip hip hu!
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