The Words of Others

Writing and living, as I do, as many of us do, as days upon days, is all about one’s own words. It is.
Or is it not?
I’ve been myself for a while now, not proud, not too keen, but a force of habit, like a reasonable thing to do. Being as the most elementary way of enduring without dying. Writing and living, as they say.
The body I carry, with all its hmms and ahhs, a body so frail, breathing tenderly like roses may sip or sinners might whisper, a body given, ill-treated, with all kinds of laments and cries.
My body has fears, it hurts, it thrills, it savours and shivers, and my body also thinks, but only when it stumbles.

Of love we shall talk another time.

There’s always some violence in the act of hearing, like a target meeting its bullets, or wood encountering fire. Words can only burn inside the heads of others, conquering and then soothing, loving and then leaving.
But we all yearn to be conquered, don’t we? We all feel empty and sad when the night falls and there is nothing to be there for. No God in our hands, no meaning in those hours.
And then the voices, and then you, and you, and people pouring meaning to what life could be… Life, as I should live it, God of all the proses.
My life, so much better, so much…. More, through the meanings of others. I’d be happy if I was you. I’d be wholesome if only I could try.

Of love we shall talk another time.

The deer keep jumping, despite us, the leaves keep falling, despite ….
Don’t we? Don’t we all deserve so much better? Don’t we all know so much more?
People can be very intelligent.
I had this girl… I did. She said the sweetest things, she touched me where I am not. And kisses, and words, and… still… I mean, we all have fucked, and it can be pleasant, but not like that, I kept telling her, not like that.
Writing and living, like we did, was all about our own words. And we fucked each other’s phrases, and we fucked each other’s worlds. With all our hmms, and ahhs.

Of love we shall talk another time. 

(Texto escrito originalmente em inglês para uma leitura na Ledig House)

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