As Vivências

The Suffer Of A Scratchless Heart [1]

I could not have devised another means to embrace pain, nor have I ventured to explore paths untaken in the pursuit of a heart unmarred by the scars of existence. What I seek is nothing less than the fierce rush of unrestrained emotion, an overwhelming current of warmth that lays bare the soul. This is what I mean when I reject you, when I recoil from the stench of your presence-it is the visceral expression of a mind held captive in a sober nightmare, plunging into unknown depths, casting out for meaning in the abyss and coming up empty-handed.

Even the most adept illusionists could not conjure a world inhabited solely by victors. It is this impossible reality I speak of, one where triumph is the only currency, but such a place eludes me, much like you. To wear the fragile armor of human flesh as a shield against vulnerability is a luxury granted to the fortunate few. Yet here, in the shadow of your presence, poetry collapses into itself, brittle and weak, as I sift through the remnants of a syrup once thick with the essence of youth, now congealed into bitter fragments of memory. Laughter, once a joyful release, has transformed into a cruel edifice-a twisted architecture that stands in contempt of the innocence of a child's fleeting holiday.

My most cherished moments in this futile journey are when I am consumed by the maddening obsession with what is missing-the fractured pieces of a neon-lit reality that forever remain just out of sight. She taught me this: the art of surrender, the imperative to obey, to become worthy of love only through subjugation.

And so my mind remains ensnared, locked in an interminable dance with suffering, in an estranged relationship with God that stretches on endlessly. I have come to accept that I deserve this, that I have earned this agony for the sin of loving a game that was never mine to play. It is a grotesque tableau, an obscene fusion of dream and toy, each indistinguishable from the other, bound by threads of desire and despair.

I search desperately for something sweet, something to place on my tongue that might transport me back to that moment-two years ago-when I first encountered you on the Boulevard, where the ordinary world of bakeries and small joys fell away, replaced by something transcendent, something untouchable.

Violence was never my choice, yet you chose to become a reflection of me, a mirror of all that I am, and in that reflection, I know that you would choose it all over again.