Pingos pingam pancadas
Cinza se desfaz em lençóis
Ruínas e impurezas levadas
Enquanto se ocultam os sóis

Pequenas explosões geram mudez-
Grandes cortinas me dão lucidez
Paz se origina de contradição
Me põe a dormir feito uma canção

E então, o aguaceiro
Com seu tiro certeiro
Me encontra em meu lar
E lhe toma o lugar

Derrete as paredes do meu frágil abrigo
Me protege, me acalma, e chora comigo.



The place was beautiful, a shock between man-made and nature-generated. I couldn’t help but feel dwarfed by the vast living room; spacious and regal yet somehow not intimidating.

The windows, by far the most attractive spot, filled most of the far back wall, and opened to the beautiful sight of Britain’s countryside. The sky was beautifully lit by the stars and moon, as if coated in sugar; and right below it, all that could be seen was green. Bushy trees and tall grass; blousy flowers and spidery, gnarled twigs twisted upwards, as if beckoning the light and the sky closer.



his uneven breathing
like lapping waves
a songstress’s soft calls
of pleasure and decadence

passion and fire
through paper thin walls

birds singing
from behind bars
inside their gilded cages

impossibly tall branches
tangle with clouds
as our roots do the sheets