Fim

Quero vomitar esse desejo de ser feliz
Para fora de mim
Para não ter que continuar
Para essa batalha de uma vez acabar.
Dizem que alguma coisa boa sempre nasce de tudo que é ruim
Mas estou começando a achar que o meu ruim é estéril
Essa luta interminável me deixa exausta
Quero me deixar levar pelo sono
Dormir sem ter motivo algum para acordar
Me esconder debaixo das cobertas
Onde ninguém nunca vai me achar
Deixar a campainha tocar sem ter que levantar
Ouvir os barulhos da rua lá longe
Sem nem sequer piscar
Perdi a razão
Perdi a intenção
Quero ficar aqui, dura, pálida, inerte
Que venham os aplausos
Que as luzes se apaguem
Que a cortina se cerre
Pois este é o fim.

To Dad with Love

Happy Birthday dad. The last time we spent your birthday together I was 17. I miss hearing your voice, even if it's just on the other end of the line. I struggle to remember what you sounded like and I hate that. I hate the feeling that you’re slowly fading. Escaping through my fingers like sand or water I can’t hold on to. I'm reading your poems again. Trying to remember what you sounded like when you recited your favorites to me. There's one I really love. Not because it's pretty or perfectly composed but because it talks about everything that hunted you and how you feared someday those same things would hunt me. You wanted to make sure that never happened but you knew you couldn't. I'm writing again. It makes me feel closer to you. Documenting our history. Leaving the bread crumbs behind like you did. Celebrating the special moments. Trying to make the sad ones a little less sad. I know it was important to you and I think you would have liked that. You always wrote a poem for me on my birthday so writing is my bday gift to you. I only wish I could hear your voice reciting your favorite poems to me again. No one can recite them with as much feeling and emotion, heart and soul in their voice like you did. No one. Happy Birthday Papiro. Love, Grugru