The best can never be real!

The Prince Charming fantasy must be dropped, the faithful servant, the knight in shiny armor, drop it, the Man always looking good at every instant of the day, always at his advantage, on the best angle, under the best light, dominating and mysterious, never smiling frankly, never awkward, sweating adventure, manliness in all its bankable clichés, just drop all this, it's a deceitful commercial, an impossible icon.

(and it exists  a fake tale about the perfect woman, made to delude men, too)

Oh Sun! I hate you!
And not only because you're a God!

While musing

I had in mind, my crooked front teeth, brittle, scaling teeth, and also, the eyes of that girl, the eyes, the eyes, i've got something for the eyes, the unexpressive eyes, because it's not the eyes that display, and let us sense the emotions on a visage, it's the stretching, rolling, and creased flesh all around.
The eyes are like jewels, polished, cold and beautiful jewels, abstruse as galaxies, tainted marbles, mysterious puzzle of light and colors, eyes are nothing more than dull abstract beauty.

(ask me which eyes, in that dream it was those of beth thomas, the child of rage, set on the body of that luscious girl i knew, dreams make strange combinations, and one thought during the day made me remember it, "eyes are little and pretentious collectibles like that")

Stroll in faculty garden (Observation and Silly Rambling)

Teens are impressionable, their self esteem isn't formed, not strong enough, so when someone, maybe older, comes along and show some desire toward such fragile persons, many fall in the thinking of being special in that presence, ending up getting attached over that only reason.
To me it's more a proof of lack of personality, a proof of insecurity, the teen doesn't choose consciously and his ego needs the other to feel fine in himself (which is already paradoxical, to search self-confidence in the other, one should search in oneself, that is more sensible to me), without the other there's a missing or self-depreciation, this setting starts, in my opinion, an unhealthy relation based on a confusion of feelings, mixed with what is perceived of the other's talks and gestures, compliments or desires.

When someone is strong enough in his self confidence he is able to make a real choice of who he wants to frequent without being influenced, i could say manipulated, by the other's display, which can be faked or interested (through feelings and moves), and in the end it doesn't matter if the other is sincere or not, (we can never be sure about what is in the other's mind, but we can know our personal self for sure), because the awaken one will judge for himself what makes him feel good and will choose accurately to stay or leave at every moment, to meet or act whenever he really wants it and not for the purpose to get a deviant ego boost, which in the end will get stall, and will let a constant state of helplessness inside the needy person.
I think that's how a lot of girls gets fooled by an imposing presence, an image of the father or the professor. Males are more inclined to hide their needy behavior and turn to violence.

Grim (who's to blame)

I think i understand serial killers, and feel a kind of sympathy for most of them, evidently i don't side with their acts but i understand the undermining events and cogitations, along time, leading to those desperate and unconscious acts.

No other one

Did you ever have to turn your head far up to the corner,
until you tweak your neck,
pretend to be distrated,
to save your face,
while being openly insulted in the street,
if only your ears could be shut with tiny flaps,
on command.

In a moment of aggression,
being able to break down all senses instantly.

I'm asking,
did you ever have to pretend you were rightfully elsewhere
while a couple of persons were shouting at you coarse words,
but you even saw it coming,
from down the alley,
and you say to your pals,
which were walking that street with you
and thought to bring light on what happened

"Really! Did those suckers said that?!".

But with a false surprise,
pretending to be strong,
inside,
that if you had heard
you would have saved your integrity as a human being
in a dignified way.

But the words,
and the laughters,
hit you under the sight of all.

And alcool,
and youth,
isn't an excuse.

In that moment you attempt to ignore you were stoned,
tied
at a stake of undisguised truth,
right in the heart of your humanity.

I'm begining to question
who's wrong
and who's right,
who belongs where,
and who doesn't belong anywhere,
this is not an accident,
and pretending i could exist,
more than anything,
makes me want to cry.

Disapear.

To put things how it must be,
all in the right order.

Listen (fishermen's tale)

I'm a woman. I go to that dance class every thursday. I'm amongst familiar faces. I say hello to all when i arrive. I've talked and know a little part of everyone's story. Each male member made me dance at least once. And there is that man. He's not unforgetable. Nor pretty, nor talented. But he is smiling and polite in my presence. He innocently proposes me to dance, regularly. He sometimes speaks veiled compliments to me. We're not intimate, he's just a man from the dance class. Amongst others.
There is that day. It's late in the night, the class is over. A small bunch of us is waiting in front of the porch. That man is here too. The wind blows, i'm cold. I'm watching around, i could do with a little comfort. A soft piece of affection. Human warmth, in the end of that tiring day. I focus on that man. I'm getting closer, by little steps. I smile sadly, and jokingly say : "I'm a bit cold". He opens his arms timidly. And i wrap myself, encompassing him with my own. On that moment i feel safe. I needed that. Behind me another man gets close. He brags vulgarly and giggles at me : "Hey! Me too i could do with some comfort, don't you want to snuggle up against my chest too". That second man has his charms. I observed he was a good dancer. But He never watched me dance or said hello with envy. I'm thinking : "You can shoot around buddy, you'll never catch me". I'm for the fisherman.

Observing my own evolution

And i send you back to all those songs

Like silent calls to no one

I answered them all!

Not solved them,

but presented my honest and disposable self.

I'm proud i'm smiling now.

Egoism

Your dad died today.

"Come drink with me" you said without affectation.

And that's me ending up crying over my misfit life.

Sometimes!

allow yourself to be Rude, FUCK!

allow yourself to be Deceitful

allow yourself to make Mistakes

allow yourself to nest Contradictions

allow yourself to be Goofy and Dumb

allow yourself to ask Questions

allow yourself to be Perverted

allow yourself to feel Bad

allow yourself to be Imperfect


Accept it in yourself, and accept it in others.

and see that life goes on with still as many good emotions to pick along the way,

don't deprive yourself of those.


Nothing, No one impedes us to be and to share all that we are with everyone at every time of the day, except ourselves.

Emotional Thanks

"Trust yourself, you can make a woman happy whenever you want!!"


And i want it, but i want it real.

Feel it real.

But it depends too on The Woman.


It's for me to find her, or her to find me.

Whoever it is.

Whoever feel it,

like me.

The No of Nowhere

I had seen from the begining you were deceiving yourself, going over all you said you stood for, you used me every night and every morning, or rather i let myself used despite the limits i settled so clearly, believing you had made that choice in perfect understanding of the rules.
You kept reaching with your insatiable thirst for desire and joy, eager to have someone to put your dreams onto, carrying you mindlessly, someone that will give you the security of his arms and chest each time before you ever have to ask, you wished for a telepathic affection, and a life made of gold and sugar, blind to questioning the sickness of mankind, the bombs and the blows, the why"s" and the how"s", i thought you understood, we were so far away, from the first word, i knew the well was shut and filled with stall water, i could only be a caged sailor on a fragile raft, my poetic imagination and my ravenous lust for knowledge slowly shriveling away, leaking out of my dismantled carcass, in that vain environement, shallow, dark and narrow, that will be my tomb, i had to cut the leash right away, and i thought you knew too, all that, all that i'm not, and all that you are, you got tired i'm not fitting the mold you set for an ideal partner, "sorry lass" but i'm an unbound thinker, frigid to chains and expectations, i warned you and you were so innocently projecting the suave pile of your desperation that were more and more like stones thrown at me, as i noticed your coercive appeal and the fright of my distant heart.
Now you free me and you free yourself, you showed your face proudly to wave me off, and i agreed with a smile, the wind going under my coat, making me shiver, all back to the immensity, it should be fine, like i want, but that dried misleading uncertainty now corrupts me to ponder if i'm ever doomed to feel an absolute need and bond to another human being, and if this phase of my life revealed my incapacity to a recurent feeling apart for the fantasy in my mind, the thin white with colored eyes, giving me just enough hope not to end that dreary life, where no sense-blowing connection is possible.
You unconscious people vowing to make one with that girl or that guy laying insistent gazes at you, and touching you like you're a slice of smooth cake, can be happy, oh! crazily happy, absurdly happy.
Be happy for me.

More about the beauty conditioned mindlessness

People live in images, not in reality, that's why they are so insecure and disapointed when suddenly they have a glimpse of lucidity and are confronted to what this world really is, it is simple beauty, but they can't accept it because they are conditioned to have a certain perception of perfection, like characters are too clean up in commercials and magazines, this becomes the references, with what everything included themselves is judged, what an awful mistake, and then later when they rise their heads from their mercantile made up hypnotizers, and that they watch at themselves or nature, they are horrified, disgusted, scared, depressed, because real life is crooked, hunched, scratched, it's not slick and glossy, real life is sweaty, hairy and wrinkled, so what's best, fooling ourselves, closing our mind, searching to reach an unattainable and irrational perfection, or simply open your eyes and accept how things are for real, and see finally that this is beauty.

bore

I'm available for hatred, throw rocks at me, at least, at last, throw blades and your splitted tongues, that's a new occupation, i'm a punching bag, a kicking bag, i'm a spiting bag, a modern ugly iconoclast jesus in desperate need of veneration, of "whoreshipping" (damn!,fuck i'm bad!), i'm searching for an activity i will light up on doing, got style in piss and shit, i could strip of the awkwardness, the buffoonery, rip that skin and become something worthy of admiration and the cheapest but craved pity, (craved by your imperious need for indecency and mean voyeurism), my face all covered in blood, my body covered blue, masked, transformed, if i'm not good to receive love, not good to give love, maybe i'll be good at hatred, the filthy hatred, the incensing hatred, the jubilant hatred, i could transcend myself in the angel of bore, come back to hit that flesh, again and again, hate me till i'm your obssession.

Openness

"It is not sufficient to not be blind to see the trees and flowers. It also requires not to have a philosophy. When there is philosophy, there are no trees : there are ideas, nothing more."

To really see objects, nature and people in the completeness of their beauty it requires to stop judging, stop having ideas about it, stop categorizing, it requires to accept everything the way it is, to see the beauty means stop using our brain, the vicious filter of thoughts, stop giving names, it requires to forget all rules, conditionings, concepts and philosophies. It's apprehending what's around with the goodness of our senses, acknowledging the shape, the smell, the sight, the noise, the taste as belonging to one object, tree or person, acknowledging the magnificent unicity of the world.

(I wonder if Pessoa really understood what he wrote, it makes so much sense to me right now and above is my own  explanation)