Reality is boringEverywhere you goReality is the samePeople wake upSometimes get upEat (for those who can)Work (for those who must)Walk around passing ghostsHunting the cityEat again (if very lucky)Go to sleep (if very empty)I can'tWhen the night risesAnd all the deformed creaturesLeave their holesWhen the dim light Can't show shapes clearAnd everything can be beautifulBy just putting a redDull light over itIt gains new form, a new historyA new angle through your lensesNights dignifies beingsMislead our perceptionWhat is black and white?There is no such a thingNo shadows to blameEverything is drunken darkThings can only be seenThrough the eyes of our handsAnd the eyes of our sensesSince the eyes that shallowly judgeIn darkness are completely blindReality is boringThe night drives it awayAnd we create our own worldThrough melodies and loud noisesThrough white and colored powderCovering our facesThrough lipsticks and ropesImmobilizing our bodiesFreeing our soulsCutting, hurting our skinHealing our woundsThe true realityWe create our ownIn our particular, micro cosmosWhich one is yours?That's the primary function of artThus artists we could all beIf we cannot go to sleepOver many ways we give lifeTo these new universesBeing through blood (for those who bleed)Or words (for those who lie)-----Singapore, oct.2016 The Howl has returned from its graveWhere theres no sense of fear love or hateIts wings no longer beheld in chainThe blend of the thrill passion and sensationsFlows from the mind through the bodyIn its rainThe incessantly of the night that followsHelds these ancient songsFor long forgotten, for long avertedUrging to come back to where it belongsThe pace of those ones whom are lostMisbehave the rules from the ones whom think are certainAnd the bird who reborns from its nescienceCan not fly until the moorings are not takenThe origins of the bonds are unknownOnly is known the blemish that it leftNeither the reason of the liberation is clearOr if its culprits are alive or deadThere's an elan to vow with it and bowIts the only clue that this freedom draws so nearAnd no more words can be said or can be soldEverything is paid with the blood of its debt Sintosaudades do que nao fomosSintosaudades daquilo que nao sabemosJa sentiusaudades de algo que nunca aconteceu?Queria quefossem saudades Daquilo que ainda nao aconteceuTenhosaudades dos lugares onde nao te viDas doresque eu sempre sintoE ainda jazaqui, aquilo que aprofunda mais aindaEssesentimento de rinduAinda naotraduzidoSaudadessao medos instaladosQue viraramcistos no peito, por coisas inacabadasDaquilo queexistem nas dimensoes da mente Dos sonhosE em todasas outras ao mesmo tempoDas coisasque mais sinto saudade90 porcento e irreal10 por centoe ilusorioCriaturasque habitam o serQue sealimentam de nostalgiaOlhar estagnadona linha paralelaPreso entredois mundosDa grandedor Do grande prazerCocainaEssa e aformulaPara agrande jornada da almaSuicidio doeuAfogamentono mar de somDecicatrizesLugar daverdadeSintosaudades do que nao fuiSintosaudades do que nao seiQueria quefossem saudades Daquilo que ainda nao aconteceu Desenvolvimento da arte Cartao de visita( Imagem de Baixa Qualidade)Cartao Couche 250 gr Fosco + verniz Localizado Mais um da serie , parecia facil. O trabalho aqui foi , fazer 2 vezes. Adesivos para Construtora B6 , que fica em Boituva . 2 dias de trampo incluindo hora extra e ajuda da minha