ink in pain

Pathetic fallacy,

Idiotic façade

Wearing a mask

Every single day.

The water droplets taint my lenses

My mood and my brain

I'm just trying to be sane.

Smiling, asking, 'how are you today?'s

And then the sun comes

Idyllically, fresh

My breath kissing all the ponds. 

But is it enough? oh no.

Damnit. Mental drum.

e esse amor que                      

  jorra transborda engorda do peito?                                                   satisfez embriaguez seminudez no seu leito. 

senti vivi morri, finalmente, depois

do seu amor ascendente

gradualmente 

me tomou completamente.

how alluring it is

to have you raw against my skin

your moans fading in ecstasy

dying among my teeth.

your nerves pulsing in electricity

harmony, fireworks and endorphin 

your body speaks paradise

while everything else screams inferno.

I can still feel you 

even if

i'm lost in numbness. 

When I'm lying against a paper wall

I remember the stiffness of your room's one

Hard and cold

Painted in blue

And it anchors me back in my sheets.

It brings chillness to my boiling blood

And familiarity

Like that tattered blanket we can't never let go of.

You, you are my concrete blue wall

and the tattered blanket,

and there's no matter to

the anchors drowning me

or the suffocating bedsheets

I can still perceive your chest's comfiness. 

I can still feel you.

I bought the normal ticket from this guy on the corner of the big auditorium right in the heart of the side. It had huge mirrored purple-ish windows and a big sign with neon lights that read 'Music LIVE!'. Very original. It just looked like a fancy brothel. 

'You HAVE to talk to them and tell them about me. And take a picture, of course.' Angie said. I could say she was freaking out, she was speaking 1000 words a second. It wasn't even funny. 'But wait, how are you gonna get in there? OMG HOW ARE YOU-'

'Just go running straight through it. Really fast. ' Alison suggested sarcastically.

'Not. Helping.' Angie and I said simultaneously.

'JINKS!' 

 Oh gosh. 

'And, Germana? Aren't you going to change? You are in sweatpants, for heaven's sake.' Alison says.

 And by this so sweet remark, she GIVES ME A BRILLIANT IDEA.

I go off to my car and grab as many clothes I can. I change into the only 'formal' outfit I brought: the dress I was supposed to wear on my date-anniversary with Andrew. Matt had suggested for me to do  so as, I quote, 'it could be required at some point in our adventure'. The three dead people in my head are confused and try to get me to tell my plan, but there's no time. The show was due in 3 minutes. 

'Si vous plait! Let la mademoiselle through! Oui oui!' I used my best French accent, which is pretty horrible. What do French people say? Oui, oui, baguette et Tour Eiffel! Yes. I suck.

'Ma'am, can I see your pass, please?' the tall security guy stares at me.

'Pass? The BackStreet boys need URGENT garments and you ask me for my PASS? MONSIEUR, THIS IS THE BIGGEST REUNION OF THE HISTORY OF MUSICAL INDUSTRY AND YOU ASK FOR MY PASS?' 

'2 minutes to entrance.' the voice announces on the intercom. 

'2 MINUTÉ FOR THE ENTRÉ AND THE GARÇONS-'  I push myself towards him. 

'OKAY, just go already!'

And I am in. Thank God, because my French quota for today has reached its limit.

I hide in the bathroom for about 40 minutes, which makes me think it was rather stupid to hurry like I did, but well, I didn't really have time to speak with them - after all, they did have a show to be on.

When a clear, feminine voice announces over the intercom to prepare to close the curtains, Angie screams in my head.