Strangers in a Rainy Night

  

  She’s walking down the lane, i saw it. I saw it and my mouth start to salivate, blonde baby, crooked tooth. So lonesome, baking a birthday cake for herself, i wish i had some fingers more to count her years. Blonde head covered, moroccan dress. So lonesome again in the birthday/halloween night. Sleepy girl, i’ll be outside your door, getting rid of the ghosts and goblins.

 Choose very carefully.

Trick or treat?

 Hey blondie, do you think it is easy to hide a body?

I dunno.

Well it is not, bring me one and quickly, i know you can, ever read the Tell Tale Heart? Sharp senses makes wonders. Nice feet yours, spurs do good craved in your flesh, can you guess when i’m joking or, when i’m being just hypothetical, folky girl, may i be the outsider, you’ll decide what to call me.

Call me Tommynocker.

Why?

Call me Langolier.

WhyWhy?

I am the beast that god sends to attack the innocent and the not so innocent. I want to drink the blood of the lovers and the tireds. The blood of the backstabbers, the betrayers and the rascals and the sinners. 

Call me sorts of names, even Legion if you like. You sound rude and rough blondie, but hey, that’s the way i appreciate. Let me light a fire, not a fire fire, i’m talking ‘bout A fire, a big one, to consume you and me. So, you’d found the body? 

Good. Let’s go out.

Do you like music? I’m seeing you do. So, Chopin for us.

Rainy clouds covered up the sunny sky, i’ll open the grave.

OkiDoki.

So, your mamma and dadda spank you every night and thats why you walk so sadly down the lane, and you poisoned then with, oh, i see, a overdose of acepromazine, kinda fair, kinda not. Hear the saxes and keys, that will make you feel better, let’s work now and you’ll cry later, but if you want to hide those bodies better be quickly. Shovel and dirty. The end baby, is already upon us, the end is really nigh.

How d’ya know?

Space and time are not the same, dusk is now here and this tea have absolutely no flavor. Who’s older, you or me?

 We have the same age, depending the flow of time and space, if entropy strikes now, i can run away from this passive matter state, if entropy strikes now, you can have your Nova Baby, remember? The one who put you in the fire and so.

 Pity and love once had the honor seats at my table, now, they’re just despicable and unnecessary. But i wonder when i look at you. Sociopath or just a survivor?

 When i look at you, a lot of questions pop up. May we let the dusk tell us, it’s a lovely, cozy Rainy Night, we can enjoy it.

 Hear the saxes and keys. The end is really nigh, the end is here and now.

 I’m sure that if few people come in here, even fewer go out. That’s why this djellabah is coverd in blood, as your skin, inviting me to lick it as if consequences did not existed.

 You’re a cause and an effect, chaos and order. Iteration and fractal. Yummi and bitter, with or without djellabah.

What is your little secret, little girl?

 Everybody who knows is dead.

Don’t worry ‘bout that, i’m dead already, Langolier, Tommyknocker,  God’s Beast, or the voice of conscience in your head, as i said. I have a lot of names. And, please quote me on that, thank heaven for all the little girls, and thank heaven for the girl who lives down the lane. 

Wow, take easy with this milk baby.

Drink if you think i am beautiful.

  

What was in that turquoise cup, blondie?

 Acepromazine

Lights are fading blondie. Secret secured.

 Good night blondie.

Travel well. 

Rainy Nights/Morning Sun

  Rainy Night was promised for that day

As i walked amongst the faceless crowd

She was at my side, we’re at somewhere else

But as sure we’re far away from home

On and on walking

Waiting for the rain

Aim on my chest smiled to me, a little wink in her glass eyes

Look over there, a Little Bird on the top of that building with a telescope rifle

Learning the first lesson

Be careful when she pick up the knives

She smiled, the one at my side

That La Femme Nikita smile

Lighting my cigarette

As she took at one gulp

Warm whisky

Poetry is

The drops runnin’ through her lips

Crowd came from nowhere

Strange feeling that this place is a friendly place

Heard someone saying

“Mex Cow was a nice kind of girl.” At a party somewhere

The wind told me or so

Some sick interpersed thoughts waving

Through my brain

As she look at me

With that horror movie smile

Her saliva will be my libation

With ice and raspberries 

 Stairs in decrepitude

Window to the town

Wind, so sweet dancing with the leaves

Like yesterday, and like tomorrow

D’ya know

All the life can be compressed in the wind and that amber light

Stop a moment

I know very well that in these times

People like us have to run

But sometimes all seems so far away

She was in bed now

Dove, my dove

I’ll burn you from the inside

She just began to feel the heat

Take care or burn to the dust

Layin’ there naked and in the screen some Luc Besson movie

Maybe the french accent excited us both

Jean Reno’s voice

Basso

Or Portman with her sexy chirp

As we get the sheets dirty the screen changes

With the scenes of Les Aventures extraordinaires d’Adele Blanc-Sec

“All the animals come out at night” she said

Riding and riding, going on and on, further than my own experience

The town was all grey under the night and the rain

Remind me of gargoyles and foggy streets

Remind me of the dephts of my own

But as the drops gleam

It all seems so far away

And she’s just begun to feel the heat

In the thoughts out of control

Um gole na garrafa de Sailor Jerry

E uma bala no tambor

Gire o colt na mesa

Como uma mulher sexy

Dançando a habanera

O cano é um olho distante

Que nunca deixa de me chamar

A cápsula é minha melhor amiga

Burn herself ‘til the dust of frazzle

And slept without sheets

Eyes out there

Rainy Night crumbling over the streets

I can see among the cars

A Little Bird and a Raging Bull

Kissing passionately at the 27th avenue

Nothing else matters cuz down there

Little bird just begun to feel the heat

And i’ve learned, my friend

Sometimes the rain falls and sometimes the breeze blow

But never stop feeling the heat

Or let the fire wane

And, if it was good

Let tomorrow be just like yesterday

Um prato que não enjoa

Rainy Night was over

She is sleeping still

I promised to the wind that i won’t let her go

Sunrise, a violin case and a plant in the tarmac

All the grey fades to the technicolor day

The city is all yellow

Turning the stones into gold

Birds of Storm

   I like this calm little moments before a storm.

  Sitting there in the stairs

 Lollipops and cigarettes in her little fingers

What’s that bruise on your face Little Bird?

 Milk drops behind the room D6 and the scent of powder

 She does not know what he is doing with the eyes covered by the dark glasses.

You remind me of Beethoven Little Bird.

 Be careful, Little Little Bird, the bad man is bringing everyone.

What?

-E V E R Y O N E.

 What’s your name Angel?

Sitting in a cinema

Look there, right there

His eyes are so shiny

Funny to see this man so happy with such a small thing as

A movie from the ‘40s.

So pure is the shape of his heart.

What you do best, Léon?

Noon, it’s a dangerous hour

Run for your life Little Bird ‘cause life

Does not spare you, it does not care if you are a child

You need to grow up a little to do the Ring Trick

You want to “Clean” Little Bird

No one will believe in your strenght

Why you’re so strange Léon?

–You met a woman.

I finished growing, i just get older –Said her, but remember Little Bird, for the guy who’s aiming, can be opposite.

 Let me water you so you can have roots.

And i always get sad when Léon say: No woman no child.

Everytime i hear him saying “Mirror”.

 Bet you can’t know what she wants

Well i can tell

 So simple

She wants love or death

Had no more time to sleep

Now she’s a Bird of Storm

And she can feel love

In her... well... in her stomach...

–How do you know it’s love if you never been in love before?

 Help her Léon, she loves you

She has no place to go

Open the door inside you do not let it over in the D6

She is right Léon

You could be a team and make your streets be Mean Streets.

Like Bonnie and Clyde and Telma and Louise.

Don’t you fear no more, Léon

She loves you, Léon

Please believe her, Léon

She is armed to the teeth

But you don’t need to be careful.

–If you don’t help me, i’ll be dead by tonight.

The bad man and everyone need to take care of their damn asses

But now run couple, run couple

I’m here for both of you

Run couple run

Everytime i try to stop the balaclaved men from catch you but...

–Death is whimsical today.

Like a clock tick the noise of the guns

Beware the bomb Léon

Beware Stansfield Mathilda.

 Simbolical act plant your plant in the park

Léon you have growed your roots inside her

And she’s a Bird of Storm

Everytime it rains

Thunder and lightings i’ll be sure

That deep in she remember the greatest guy ever

Firing his guns

But for now you can rest in your bed

I know that he’s the only one.

Hey Little Bird

Mathilda, you was Léon calm little moment

Before the Storm.

–I think we’ll be ok here, Léon.

[last lines]

.10 Bull Horn

    Little Bird came down across the alley

Milky hands and a little pinch of gunpowder in her cheek

Lovely as paradise could be

In her knickers, tight and flavored

A ten cent pistol with some marked bullets

Rose, red and crimson

Waiting for a target

Behind the FBI doors

 Nods yes for what is beautiful

Nods yes to the mirrors

Take a shower stay clean

As a Matador you gotta wait

For the Raging Bull

And if he poke you with it’s horn

Slap him like a whale

 Sulky walking down the alley while the sun burns my skin

And turn the perfume into sweat

Turning black the domes that covers my eyes

Little Bird is waiting

For love, death or payback

Making light drip in her dark hair

Her shirt with a stamped photo

Of Sugar Ray Robinson

Shows me that

She is a

M A T A D O R

And i’m after her

With a shotgun i’ll travel

And a desire burning in my chest

And my pickup is blasting through the railroad

Like a Raging Bull

Little bird

Yo mama and dadda can pay for you tuition

But i can give you a pair

Of better pistols

Something good tonight can make you forget

The bleakness of days

Just relax and talk

Don’t mind with the blood on my face

This is a passive state

Talk and ignore the moments of delay

She’s there with the cigarette and lollipop in her hands

In a ruby room at fourteen street

Smell of booze, lonely sex and corpses on a Friday night

But i know she’s armed almost to her teeth

And i have to beware with her Taxi Driver behavior

It will be hard to avoid her Jake la Motta punches

And it is so exciting the way she changes suddenly

From sweet to deranged.

 Tide out

Hold your horses

Hold your streams

Just let it all flow when you’re sure

That will meet the sea

  Little bird gotta an acid kiss in her beak

Could cut my shoulder and offer her to cry

But i think gunpowder and alcohol are making me

A deadly lost cause

A horn, then another horn opening up the way through her door

She cough

Pistol shots

Bleeding skin

Little bird all dressed

As a Switchblade Knife

She smile and wait for me

Now i can do the

E S T O C A D A

Furniture in espectacular movement

Like a ballet of broken glass and wood pieces flying

Splits and roar as the pistols sing the song of their

Steel people

 Blood, flood

In a wave through the heart

Now your hands gripped around my thighs

I feel, well

Warm

 Little beautiful woman

Among the junkyards and toxic waste

Kissy kissy

Bloody taste, a little morphine

Here’s my arm, you can eat it

But let’s make this reciprocal

Lovely as the rain that sweetly falls from the skies

More two ten cent pistol shots

And maybe she can trust in a stranger

As she trusted in the first Matador

Who taught all she knows

The Matador and a Raging Bull (VIVA EL TORO)

Beautiful chaos

Every Friday at 27th avenue

Little Ghost

  Could not think ‘bout causes or effects when I felt in love for that, Little Ghost in orange clothes. Got already many reasons to think in return her calls but her voice bring me the blues, she have a Coltrane tongue and i can see her in my mirror, behind me with a knife, coming at me in 300 km/ph.  Well girl I got very long nail blades and sharp teeth, come at me Little Ghost and I’ll scare the hell of you. Out there a rain, sadder than usual.

   The nurse is my woman and she like to watch me bleed, as I smell her neck and breasts she put salt in my wounds, I just want the Little Ghost possess her with her 300 km/ph kiss. All my life i was defensive but when i’m haunted by that Little Ghost I stay ready for a bloddy fight. If I get along with that Little Ghost I know that i’ll catch hell with my blues, and Satan will laugh at my broken heart and make fun of the human relations. Little Ghost will bite chunks outa’me, she’s a shark and i’m swimming.

  Out there she’s thinking about the million dead people in West Virginia, and want to get in, will I allow? She’ll possess me with the devil in her black eyes.

 I think I’ve heard a sound but there’s no one else around. Little ghost screamed with the might of that million dead people in West Virginia, she could not stop the chaotic memories that lies within her. She kept my heart in the fire line, both of us are not enough, I’m empty and she is not quick enough.

But now

   Lay next to me in the couch while I sleep, let’s watch horror movies and discuss witches and folklore, let me taste the taste of your fear, bit it out of you, and beware with the Rising Tide, you’re the mistery underneath those neon lights and acid rain, astray or my teeth will cut you open wide.

  Bleak moonlight covered by the clouds and that Little Ghost running through the streets filled with bad company and nominates for crucifixion, she can’t see but i am on her side and when comes the tide, she’ll need a helping claw. I’ll not be the one to put my claws in the fire, I’ll be not the one who denied.

   Plated with marble is her skin, ghostly kiss, spectacular solo, movements and saliva with raspberries and some drops of morphine, when my teeth and yours collide, we will not fight with the rising of the tide.

 She lure me here and flee there, left me to starve.

But I wont

Cause I’ll eat and suffocate with her flesh, when the tide rises and wash all the garbage of the sidewalks, I’m God’s Lonely Man. You’re my female Norman Stansfield, where’s your sawn off shotgun?

He said to me: Boy one day you’ll be a man. Save some bad ways, i’ll need ‘em.

And that girl, hunt her heart, make she understand the world in her depends.

 Carbonic sunset on the westside, scattered dreams on the ground and couples layed on the streets, side by side so carefully. Little Ghost is up ahead, got to run, got to run, got to run. And the schemes begin, the song ended and the streets are full with azote permafrost where she slides.

  

  The tempest felt over the mankind as i run behind her, deflecting the bullets and investees of a Little Bird and a Raging Bull, they love each other but the Little Ghost hates’em.

 Stay in my bed i’ll be okay in the couch, but do not go out tonight Little Ghost, I’ve heard some news, some memories of you. Stay clean and sleep well.

 There’s a Matador on the road.

 But who is the Little Ghost, Matador?

You may ask.

Well, I cannot tell ‘cause the devil said he’ll get me

If I say her name out loud. 

Dead Road 12

  Here is where the road meets its end, Dead Road Twelve is the place where we cracked. Your flesh meet my teeth and your fist across my flesh.

 A pinch a little itchi. Run baby, run little bitch.

“If i am so evil why are you satisfied?” she asked me, well, bad is good. Cruelty and insolence are the virtues of the ones with fear. Don’t hesitate and steal your dadda red car, my monster desire is after you, blowing the path through Dead Road twelve, do the curve, catch a ride, i’m just after, flee to eleven i’m at twelve. Dead Road Twelve is my little bitch.

  Midnight boom and gunshots, runnin’ runnin’ runnin’ back to the road, the oldest road, but her shots hit me. Lord, i’m bleeding, Lord i’m cracked.

 Passion is accurate, be sure of it. Little Ghost shotted me, and now i’m here, laying on the Dead Road Twelve, so dead as i am. She engineered the long, silent, tasty and bloody kiss.

 Poor kiss, poor kiddo.

  Move your skinny thighs around the fractals

Mathematician beauty, could count every iteration, every Mandelbrot fraction, and i saw it again, she aimin’ at me. That delicious, vicious breasts. Assault rifles silhouettes in a restaurant blouse. That delicious Little Ghost is the 90’s inside the 2000’s, frames of granular image of old tv shows. Out of tune guitars, Aerosmith and Queens of the Stone Age, i’ve heard it when i crawled back to the fox earth on that little bitch, motherfucker, cock sucker Dead Road Twelve. Prosthetic Head on my side, smiling to me, blank eyes, whispering that Victor Pascow wants to talk with me, Little Ghost wants to talk with me up there, in the MicMac Burial Ground.

  

  Pickup rumbling through the railroad, runnin’ away or she’ll beat the slammajamma outa’me. But i kinda like it, not bein’ those nitwitted mens who feel it’s an honor been beated, but i face the defeat as the course of the nature. Just another iteration on the space-phase system. And, face some truth, we really got no choice but loose. Death is loss.

  Devils, skeletons and witches under her blankets, such a kind baby. Face the creature whose not have fear of blood and knives, capture your attention just to eat your heart. She’s a good eater, not a cheap one. Cheap eaters sleep with you and give the most weakest hangover.

  But see through my eyes, she’s bare too much perfection for a Matador like me say no, foe or friend, doesn’t really matter, what’s matter is, that Little Ghost is what i call Art, Art in here at Dead Road Twelve.

 Oh boy, here she comes, i just want tie her in my pickup hood like a deer, but she’s closer and closer. Sit on me, here it comes.

  Dead Road Twelve was the stage to the Midnight Boom.

A Night When the Ghosts Reappear

  Passei as mãos sobre meus lábios e a luz estroboscópica mostrou sangue nas palmas, respirei fundo e limpei na parede. Copos nunca param nas mãos e sempre estão quentes, ferventes ao entrar em contato com minha matéria carbônica.

 Olhar de fotógrafo amador, interceptando ângulos naquele rosto do lado de dentro do pára-brisas, seu cabelo está tão bonito debaixo das luzes alaranjadas, gostaria de fazer um anel com eles.

She likes to wear sunglasses indoors

  São uma e meia da manhã e a cidade me conhece em suas ruas oblongas, brisa da madrugada, cheiro de álcool e ruídos a distância, condensada nos elétrons visíveis das luzes de postes velhos. Raios de luz laranja são como miras.

 Ela sorri movendo quase nada, em flashes rítmicos que distorcem as cicatrizes no rosto dela, você só pode as ver se souber olhar. Não sei que horas da manhã.

Took like six cups of coffee in the noon, took sad pictures and hung them in her green walls, six knifes throwed in the target, so close to my mouth.

Grabbed her arms, they were hot coal. Her guitars were out of tune. Just a little, I went down and licked her wrist, after ages and ages i feel the scent.

 Put me one glass of her tears please, for the road.

It warms my coldest nights.

   Parece tão longe, ali quando o sol faz a volta até o Velho Mundo é onde mora o que se move por trás dessas letras. Se tranquilize na batida dos carros pegando fogo enquanto me banha de ácido de bateria.

Let my eyes be your black coffee.

I have allowed that your tongue would be my unction.

  

   Paz na sargeta pros mendigos de boa vontade ela disse passando a língua pelo cascalho do sorvete como uma criança cheia de malícia nos olhos, e segurou meus dedos, carro de político passando e cortou o carro dela pela frente cantando pneu como um drift e as pombas levantando vôo perto do teatro, esse filho da puta rouba mas faz ela disse esquecendo todas as vírgulas.

Her voice is a mad sound in my ears and i feel things getting up

   E quando o tempo não é medido pela linearidade as memórias tendem a se aglutinar em uma ágora mental com canhões apontados para todos os lados.

Come to me, do not follow any melody but my voice. It is sour i know, but it’s true. That should be enough, 50 years ahead and no one will remember but i will and you will too, whenever you look at the point where the sun make his turn to the Old World. My biggest mistake was to suppose that you were afraid of blood stains.

In your small world the stains are washed away in the endless Thursday rainy cold nights.

  Mulher quebra cabeça com sapatos de filme de terror.

 We could be a team, make our streets be mean streets

   Andando em minha direção e os olhos de fotógrafo marcam o ponto onde o sangue endureceu na parede, mãos curvadas segurando sua escopeta hipotética. Mirando em mim.

She’s too much picturesque for the halls of colleges or streets that are not grey.

   Não é engraçado parar diante de um outro ser vivo quando outros milhares estão indo adiante em velocidades absurdas dentro de latas com rodas?

 E eu que me perguntei por todo esse tempo onde você estava.

 “Baby i was made to break your heart.”

 Ela é o tumor que eu chamo de Marla.

Come take a ride and have a good time in my Ford Cortina.

   Mas eu tenho certeza que ela tem certeza que eu não sou o tolo que vai sentar e cantar para ela, unhas sem esmalte nos dedos refletindo a luz. A escopeta hipotética ainda com a mira fixa diante dos meus olhos. Pés calçados em sapatinhos quentes e confortáveis.

 Eu vi uma amiga outro dia. Foi o que me distraiu da mira superposta na minha cara.

 Amiga antes dela, darling, coisa fofa, mãos morenas vazias e sorriso de orelha a orelha, sopro fresco na cara com o sabor de tarde de verão, roupa de banho e música brasileira, keep an eye on love. Tão diferente da movimentação brusca de ar quente que um tiro de escopeta causa.

 I’ve tried to run to the side but there was no way. She shoot me straight in the chest, well i do not complain, a true shoot is not so bad like a stab in the back. Nice blood stains said her, knelt and licked. I took the shotgun.

 When you got too many knives and forks you have to eat something, when you have a shotgun you have to...

   Língua colorida de pirulito ou tutti frutti, e pensar que ela tem o poder de curar a depressão dos janeiros com uma SMG de beijos tão semoventes quanto as luzes dos carros das avenidas.

 So fast and soft as the winds of 27th July.

 Camisa do Queens of the Stone Age, sem calcinha e meias.

 Saliva e sangue entre meus dentes, eu tentei enxugar no céu, ou nos olhos dela. Eu não me lembro bem.

  Keep the shotgun for you, and rely the cold nights when you have a target to shoot. Good i know i can light your fuse, and bite your cheeks while the hot coffee floods your throat.

 January Blues in your nails, funny to see you as a stranger im my phone book, so, i got to go. Eat something that taste good as your flesh is, and remember: Rely in the coldest nights but keep your feet warm.

Pathfinder

 I saw one day

A lonely wolf fighting the coldness

With his teeth and claws

In war with the moths

Roamed through the frosted groves and clumps

And feast with the Ice Queen as the sky slowly faded to gray

Trapped in chains

His name is Santiago.

This is the way, he is a Pathfinder

He drank once

The blood of the imortal northern stars

And slept in a bed

Made of cinnamon, moss and musk

Begin to hunt and had the body trespassed for tusks

I saw it all when the crimsom Aldebaran shine upon me in the dusk.

This is the way, follow the Pathfinder

And one day

I dreamt of a realm untold

When Santiago and a strange Naiad runned through Eritrea

Followed a red mist into the woods

Under the multicolored light of Cassiopeia.

Silence, hear the call of the Pathfinder

He breathed the industrial smoke and ate crude and bloody flesh

Trimmed his beard and nails to caress the days passed

The bleak moon smiled to him

And he felt satisfied and warm

Because the moon and the stars leaded the way

To the way of Pathfinder

Stopped and ate the rotten scaly fishes

Swan and crossed the acid rivers

Felt fear when the shadows start dancing

But that’s only the twilight and the mirror of soul that he saw

Santiago hearken so

The Wilderness call.

Beware with the evil within,  Pathfinder

 Other night i slept again so the azure Antares shine upon my occluded eyes.

And like a storm wind he came to me again in a hell wain filled with strange carved draws of sirens and dragons

Told  me a few the tales of his life

The Pathfinder

Scars embedded in his face

The pendant in his neck

Crude leather and gold threads

Wrought by Ilmarinen and several Spirits of the Air

He said to me: Don’t stop i still want to roam, that’s what Pathfinders are for.

Now he’s keeping his course

The northern lands

To find a Naiad and love

War and core

Deep still remain

The will to astray

On women, legends and folklore

And most of all, the human’s disease need a cure

Now the northern winds blows hard and bitter in Santiago’s Heart

All wrapped in furs.

Tide Winds

  O som monótono do mar arrastando a areia, tragando-a e vomitando-a, enchia os nossos ouvidos, era noite e a luz lunar estava bem forte, iluminava quase toda a praia, a arrebentação ali adiante explodia nos cachos delicados de espuma, a lua com sua irresistível atração. Selene atraindo Poseidon, era tudo o que eu conseguia pensar.

  Os olhos dela ao meu lado estavam rasgados, tão grandes quanto você acha que o mundo é grande, a boca era um esgar aberto e frouxo, passei as mãos pelos meus cabelos sem me importar com o sangue que molhava minha fronte, sem me importar com nada, somente com o som da arrebentação e o ciclo lunar, a minguante convexa sobre nossas cabeças tão pontuda quanto a faca que ela enterrou no cara. Do nosso carro saia um som fraco, de estática e, de vez em quando, um fanático religioso berrando suas pragas, flagelando nossos ouvidos como deus flagela a terra com seus castigos, ela suspirava de vez em quando, o som se formando no fundo da goela e subindo. Então vomitou e começou a chorar, agarrou os meus braços e começou a tremer.

-O que a gente fez? O que a gente fez?! –Ela perguntava aquilo como se não soubesse, como se por mágica todo aquele sangue teria aparecido no rosto dela, a parte da blusa onde estavam os seios pequenos e delicados já dura com sangue seco.  Eu não respondi nada, estava mudo. As palavras travavam na minha garganta, o sangue quase preto no meu rosto sob a luz da lua, eu precisava de um mudslide ou de um white russian pra falar qualquer coisa, até pra tirar a bunda daquela areia pra parar de encarar aqueles olhos escuros tão rasgados e banhados de pranto.

   Ela levanta-se, desesperada, eu digo que foi melhor assim, ele estava drogado haviam quatro dias e o manter longe da cidade não foi uma opção, ele ia nos matar se não tivéssemos o feito antes. Ela grita e pergunta o que vai dizer pra mãe, eu não sei, respondo.

 Entro na casa toda destruída, foi ruim ter de matar o cara mas eu estou aqui não estou? Vivo. E ela também, é a única coisa que eu tenho no mundo, o sangue ribombando naquelas veias azuis, então tudo cai com a vigorosa batida do rock n roll, com os pés enterrados na areia ela põe um disco no rádio do carro e abre as portas.

   Pauzinhos de picolé e papéis de bala jogados naquela praia junto com camisinhas usadas e o som distante do mar quebrando, tudo aquilo misturado com o cheiro hediondo e adocicado de sangue. Os meus discos dos Stones e dos Kinks arrebentados no chão, meus lábios despedaçados de onde ele me acertou com o aparelho de som, lá fora ela está com a cabeça entre os joelhos, vomitando novamente, as mãos bonitas, lindas e num frêmito incontrolável debaixo de um torrente sonora.

MEDICATION FOR US ALL, IT IS A NEW WAY

& WE’RE GONNA TAKE IT ‘CAUSE WE LOVE IT

DON’T YOU KNOW?

  O corpo da cara está lá, todo arrebentado e a facada indo do peito até o umbigo, aberta e sangrando. Seria logo devorado pelos carniceiros da praia se nós o enterrássemos já, mas a areia revolvida ia ser facilmente reconhecível. Ela troca de música, ouço o tap tap enjoativo das lágrimas caindo nos joelhos enquanto ela troca de faixa.

EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT YOU’RE INSANE

YOU WANNA KNOW

JUST HOW LONG YOU CAN HIDE FROM WHAT YOU ARE

  Bem a calhar essa música, encaixo os sovacos dele nas minhas mãos e o arrasto até a porta, deixo o corpo cair mole lá com a certeza que é apenas matéria inerte, tiro meus chinelos e corro em direção ao mar, tenho a consciência de que ela me olha de longe

AND I FEEL NOTHING

AM I BETTER YET?

  A água salgada penetrando meus olhos abertos e ardendo, deve ter ardido assim quando enterrei meus dedos naquele pescoço, ele nem deve ter sentido,  a quantidade de crack que ele pôs por dentro das costuras da mala foi o suficiente para ele ficar louco e depois querer mais e mais e mais. E eu tinha oferecido meu final de semana para cuidar dele, levá-lo para pescar e ver o mar. Não tive outra escolha, não tivemos, ela matou o próprio irmão com uma faca de cozinha, a faca entrando macia como na carne que eu preparei pro almoço amanhã. E eu vi o fundo azul cheio de bolhas pequeninas e azuladas sob a luz, ela estava sobre mim, afundando-me. As mãos tremiam na minha garganta e o rosto pálido como a máscara da morte, me desesperei e lhe acertei o joelho com um chute, ela me largou finalmente mas eu já havia engolido água demais, não raciocinava direito. Ao longe Queens of the Stone Age tocando Burn the Witch

 Burn... queime.

   Agarrei-a pelos ombros e a sacudi, ela tentava se desvencilhar e cuspiu em mim, me arranhou mas me mantive firme era tarde demais, tínhamos ido longe demais, não era hora de crise. Ele estava bem. Lhe acertei um tapa.

-Você queria ver seu irmão morto de outro jeito com quinze balas enfiadas no rabo? Queria?! Ele não se controlou, não teve jeito. O estado dele já era crítico e não havia nem perspectiva de recuperação, olha pra mim! Ele já estava deprimido e com rabdomíolise, ele ia, pare de se sacudir, ele ia se suicidar. Era ou ele ou nós, se ele chegasse até a cozinha, a gente já era. Era isso que sua mãe ia querer?! Hein!? –Eu gritava com ela, os olhos dela ficando maiores e maiores. Ela desmoronou no meu peito chorando e perguntando o que faríamos

  BURN THE WITCH

BURN TO ASH AND BONE

  Os primeiros acordes de In My Head tocando, fechamos tudo e abrimos o gás, o que estava no fogão e o reserva, mais o da churrasqueira, antes trocamos de roupa, amarramos as velhas e a faca, o aparelho de som e o que eu havia tocado em uma daquelas pedras grandes a beira mar, afundamos tudo aquilo com nossa culpa. Nossos amigos deviam estar em seus cafés e jantando agora, nas suas festas moderninhas ouvindo sucessos from UK, pensava em filmes de terror e em Stephen King quando afundei as provas do meu crime nas águas plácidas e convidativas, o olhar dela era o de quem queria pular junto e afundar com aqueles objetos tão simples e incriminadores. Abracei-a dizendo que pela manhã tudo ia estar bem, tudo ia estar bem. Dirigimos pela areia enquanto ela troca o disco, o rosto seco.

 Última faixa e ela deita a cabeça nos meus ombros, pequenos soluços espaçados enquanto ela canta.

 Somehow they pick and pluck

Tenderize bones to dust

The sweetest grease ,finest meat you’ll ever taste

Taste

  Atrás de nós o clarão laranja baço e incandescente na noite, fico pensando em voltar àquele lugar e ver se o calor transformou a areia em vidro, mas não posso, sei que nesse momento estão investigando o suicídio dele, vamos escapar dessa. Ela mente bem, tão bem que até desconfio que minta para mim. Mas o que ficou gravado no meu cérebro mesmo foi o clarão do fogo, naquele momento todos os nossos sentidos estavam em chamas.