Nemo's Stories

Undo

2010-11-10T15:22:00.002+02:00

I need my world back.
Trust me and ignore the monster.

Lobotomize me.

I am still alive.
It crashed me apart.
Undead, I die in every dream I make.

I will say "please".
Make me feel beautiful.
Worthless effort wasted on me.
Torn my thoughts to pieces.

Please.
Run, run, run.
I swallow you whole
And I choke.
You're too much.

Mess me.
Stop breathing.
Heart attack.
Eyes suffocate.

Cut me in half.
Tear me open.
Tear me apart.

Lobotomize me.

Undo it all.
Spit me out.

Crossroads

2010-10-10T22:59:00.002+03:00

The unspoken answers of an underlying thought drew the imprecisions and undermined the reasons of our being here tonight.
The outspoken question of our minds' imperfections drew the difficulties of an ordinarily indecision.
When faced with three resolutions we are prone to accept the worst evolution of a succession of question marks.
Upon one's discretion are ways of possessing different truths. Given the preferences we are assuming indirect control of each others actions.
The distinct separation of the miscalculations brought to light the coming ages of our persuasions.
Blinded by the dawn of reason we pack off the certainties and dismiss the options for the essential return to the end.

[censored] Dear Sir,

2010-04-26T23:44:00.005+03:00

They say I don’t act nice, first to finish every single conversation, but you know better than that, cause you’re waiting and you know this is not getting us anywhere. It is not supposed to get us anywhere, and by now you should feel the relief.

Do you remember that night I told you I love both of them more than I’ll ever be able to love you? Be my confidant, my friend, my shoulder to cry on. Hear my grief and wash away my tears because I miss so much and I am sad.

Distance is the basic concept in my fundamental reality. Being apart, one coffee, one tooth brush. It was his choice to leave. I used to believe in forever. But then I’ve met you, so I guess there is not enough room for the three of us anyway. Or the four. I heard your hands are full.

So I’m sure you had fun last night. I had to stay awake. To stay away. Or I would have had some vodka and call you around three, but they told me I should start behaving better. They think I’m irresponsible, as if they even knew the meaning of such word. Don’t worry, I’ll always find my way back to you. Listen to the music.

I’ve been wanting to ask you, do you mind if I get to know your friend better? I’ve been talking with him lately, he makes me smile. He admires you very much, and I love the way he talks about you. I think we could have fun together.

Don’t frown, I know you’ve been busy and it’s ok, we need to know life so we can really appreciate each other. I’m the one who’s gonna stand by you till the day you die. Remember when I told you we should choose our own death, plan our funeral, so fun. I want to know one year in advance when I am going to die so I can start becoming a better person. I am too busy now, I have to deal with all my daily important stuff. You are busy too, that’s why you forgot to write.

So did you listen to the music?

They say it’s all in the words, they are so wrong, it’s all about the way it smells.

Did you wash your hands? Brushed your teeth before you went to bed?

You frown again.

It would be really nice if we had no mood swings two weeks in a row. I am really tired trying to understand this.

Missing (A Lost Battle)

2010-04-19T22:12:00.002+03:00

The words disturb the reality
I had to question my sanity
Invaded with your compliance
I had to give up my resistance

I remember perfectly the first moment I saw you.

Words are our only treasures
We can't really trust the memories
Fighting the demons of space and time
The world is build from game cards.

I miss making coffee in the morning.

Dreams swallow the universe
Painting our own existence
Reinventing the senses
And conquering thoughts.

I hate saying "good-bye", please don't make me do that again.

We are like one and the same
A resilient mystery
The perfect reflection of what can not be
We should stop conceiving existence.

I am afraid one day I'll miss you too much and I'll die.

Years

2010-03-17T22:33:00.003+02:00

Hello love,

it's been eight years since then. Do you feel time? Does it overcome you? Are you old and wise? Are you brave and powerful? Do you have a wife and a child that support you? Do you gather lies as images of the past? Are you poor and tired? Are you a fool and an ignorant? Are you witty and resistant, magnificent and vibrant? Chocolate gave us hope and you kept us dreaming when the thoughts of demolition impaled the thinking as a broken course of action to an unforeseen caption of our moments.

It is over.

Tired

2009-11-24T20:09:00.004+02:00

Tired of me
of you
of all that was once desired
and carefully planned.
do you feel banned
out of life?
how do you erase yourself?
eternal sunshine of the spotless mind
exorcise
delete all mankind
if you still linger here.
In my mind.
Pain is only a physical reaction
to a long ago planned action
to disappear.
Are you proud?
Unhappy
Never to see eachother again
as if it even matters.
You were not aware.
Do you think?
At all?
I was never there.

Angels

2009-05-02T20:37:00.004+03:00

Ten brave angels on my closet
Support every act of courage
And prepare the coffin
For the misunderstood beauty
And the sudden ravage.

There are angels on my closet
Applauding sincerity
Admiring straight fowardness
Blinded by the brightness
Of an idle morning.

Sparkling angels on my closet
Scare the pigeons with their laughter
Because my obscene ignorance
Hurt the certainly desirable pride
As we decided to stop all process.

Purple angels on my closet
Bow their heads
In complete fascination
With your charismatic self
And your knowledge.

Tired angels on my closet
Hold their breaths in amusment
And as they turn their backs on us
Avoiding every shortcut
They wave their hands good-bye.

Short Story About An Improbable Dream

2009-02-19T11:22:00.005+02:00

This is an odd story about an improbable dream.
It is the story of a black peculiar cat who wanted to live in a train so it could smell the passengers all day. It is the story of the black bored cat who wanted to become part of the great big mistery of the travelling race, the human kind.
The black bold cat did not know that one has to plan its own catly actions before jumping in the big dark steel cage. The black hopeful cat wanted it all but forgot to decide the hows and the whens of living in a train.
So the black tired cat left its own comfy pillow for the cold impersonal train. And the black wishful cat bought a ticket. The black freakish cat was content.
The train started to move and the humans started to talk and the black wise cat was amazed about the stupidity of the human race.
The black angry cat began to doubt its own catly actions. The black listless cat regreted leaving it's own comfy pillow for the cold impersonal train. But most of all the black frustrated cat did not understand how humans can behave that way. The black resignated cat had some great expectations about the passengers' smells.
So the black disappointed cat had no plan. The black lonely cat got off at the next station going to live its solitary catish life as far as possible from the nonsense of the human kind.

Sick

2009-02-11T12:52:00.005+02:00

Sick.
Subtle tactic.
Betraying myself
I bow.
Standing in row
I applaud.
Too much noise,
We are your toys.
Proud
We are loud.
Lifeless light
Forgot to recite
Afraid I'll bite
And leave a mark
She'll see.
This is not me,
It's someone else's thought
Of what I ought
To do.
Leave you
Alone.
I go on.
High voltage on my brain
This is me going insane.
I dive
Survive
Still alive
Even if you deprive
Me.
Random.
Lost in a place
Following your trace
Again.
Erase
Me.
Do re mi.
Hearing little birdies die
How come you make me cry.
I can go on like this for a while.
Tactile.
Countless miles.
Forgot if it was good or bad.
I stop.

Down

2009-02-01T14:37:00.003+02:00

I understand.
You pretend.
I resent.
It's fun
To move on.
Raging lions
Want
To swallow
You up.
Down.
Don't frown.
She'll see there's something wrong.
Go along.
You understand.
I pretend.
You resent.
Do I repeat myself?
Do I repeat myself?
As she likes to say.
I obey.
Change my mind.
Find
My reasons not to do it
Lined up
Waiting for you
To prove me wrong.
You prove me right.
I want to fight.
Do you see?
Breaking their feathers
I'm stepping the borders
Of how to behave
In your urban society.
Be smart.
Let me start.
So you can say later on
'It's not my fault'.

Your Divinity

2009-01-28T11:42:00.003+02:00

And the thread pulls me to you
But you don't talk
I can't read the silence and it's dark
Misinterpretation of your every breath
Running down my skin
Was it the 'yes' or the 'no'
That kept us apart
And I am so tired
Sleepless encounters
No one to blame but no matter
I am dragged into this tragedy
By your invisible laughter
How come people would die for one word
Kill to be touched
Blessed by default
Is it the human, the soul or the reflection
I'd like to be revenged when I am dead
Tonight I'm having troubles dying
Is it the words or the smell
Do you bleach your memories
Or show them off to your comrades
Do they empathyze
Lick the wounds of history
Blame it all on destiny
Watch him grin as I break stillness
He knows I can't help yelling
Letting go has proved incompatible
To my disgusted self
Miles spell our fairy-tale
It's too cold to give a damn
Masochistic ambivalences
Drown into a pool of questions
Wallow in my bewilderment
Your non-interference tactic
I attack and find my way
Back to your divinity
Every time we meet.

Tonight

2009-01-26T22:48:00.003+02:00

Every step and every action brings me closer to your supervised reactions. Sleepless hours, insignificant strangers and steel waves make my spirit question my mind's decision making capacity. Seems we never could tell the right from wrong anyway. Complicated spiderwebs built around your outspoken environment. Your companions forgot the questions and begun to smile. Being tired is part of my winter nature. Sparkling water for my excited soul! Is it about me or about you, they wonder. Give him water! The smoke and the paper, bring the time closer so we can suffocate eachother. Be in my face. Choke for unknown reason, for your mind can not conceive the brilliance of coexisting this evening. Hear the water flow. Cold hanging on the walls. Their eyes know everything. Stare. Say yes. I have been waiting for your smell long enough. It is time you come. Be here. Be there. Place was never part of the almost solved problems. I will be your question mark for the evening. Thank you. Smile, for we are here on our own will. Each decision comes with unlikely consequences. You forgot. Feel their eyes moving on your skin. Taking your shirt off. They undress you with their liniar thoughts. You have to act, because they payed to touch your soul tonight. Divide yourself for each and everyone of them. Let them shred you to pieces so they can all have a part of you. They applaud now, you must bow. Feel their eyes on your naked self. They bite your ears, they smell your desire to leave, you have no place to go. You were sold and reinvented for their pleasure tonight. They masturbate their mediocre intellects as they watch you play for them alone. Look at me now, make me feel the only one. The room is full with only ones. Let our eyes meets so they can dance with extatic enthusiasm the joy of recognition again. Cut the air in tiny squares because you know every time is different. Dress yourself. You'll catch a cold. And you must leave tomorrow. I will tell them the show is over. They don't have what to see here anymore. Their money can't rape you enough. Their breaths made your skin dirty. Empty the place. Paint the ceiling with falling stars. Find me in this mess they've left. Give me sweets and send me home. Make me exhale poetry as you wave your hand goodbye.

Commonplace Drama

2009-01-25T14:14:00.005+02:00

Parade of our intellects
The clear justification of what it affects
The judgemental ideas and their effects
Unpredictable consequence and what it reflects
are ominous.

Hide from their triviality
Cover yourself with my apathy
Ignore the outlined skeletons
Refuse the analysis of my actions
and root yourself.

Resist the pressure of ignorance
Decline the contextual brilliance
Of two personalities collision
For we are not chosen
in this commonplace drama.

The chaos we have created
The concience overburdened
The small pieces shrouded
Should make them feel amazing
because they were right.

We are standard actors
Lost in transition
And as they beg for reason
I break the laws of silence
with my stubborn resistance.

The immortalized moments of closure
The sour taste of commitment
The challenging absence certify
My dissaproved indecision
with extenuating circumstances.

About Growing Up

2009-01-24T00:23:00.012+02:00

I can sometimes feel my wings hurting in my shoulder blades. Like every part of me that has been amputated, they feel exhausting and touchable like they're still there. I look at my scars in the mirror and refuse to recognize the bearer of the dark rings staring at me through the impersonal glass. The gnurls, the places where they cut me off are hideos and repulsive. The memory of a faultless concept burdens every thought and conquers every trace of hope suffocating it. The frustration and the guilt knit around the shame are too heavy to carry around the places where they expect me to come and act. To teach them about life and love and and feelings and war analyzing it all like a perfect mathematical tool with a sole purpose to please. I am a humbug in my own body, rapped in flesh, my face my own mask. I pretend. I lick my wounds before I come to you, swallowing my blood. I am the product of a continous act of spurn. I repress the urge to take away the lives of those that threw this upon me. To kill myself and others. I breathe twice as slow, I hurt twice as much. The helpless screaming I hold in my mind kept me awake for the last century. I hear the roars of panic, the yelling, the cries of despair. I am paralyzed with fear. I can feel what's left of my body and the cold tears running down my face for I can not control my soul trying to escape. If there was a God I would ask for forgiveness. Like an ancient prayer I hear the dreams of mankind as they are given birth. But they are build around a false idol and they shred to pieces burring mothers and children underneath the chaos. The ruins, the void, what's left of them all silenced the place. Darkened the place. I can not ask for forgiveness because I am not willing to forgive others. I would bring pain and destruction until everyone would have payed the rightful price. And as they expect me to answer their questions and bring light to their lives, I will smile with sorrow for I will feel the taste of blood on my tongue and the wings I do not have anymore hurt me as they try to spread.