The lovers have been lying again.


The lovers are lying again.

Not eating, sleeping less and less.

Staring at each other, questions alive in their eyes.

The lovers are lying pink lies, blue lies, nothing real.

Keeping a knive under the matress.

A fast car ready, a loaded gun at the goodbye.

Forgetting beds and hearts have windows.

And the world is looking in.

Life changing boots.


He said “You are looking at it wrong!”

Then he kicked my world with his dirty boots and made it spin around.

And at first i was mad.

But once it stopped moving the same things looked better, the same sun brighter.

His smile became a place on the map, something i could reach when i wanted.

And love was not a cage, not a number, not a house, not a rose.

It was movement, and it was all around us.

I buried my head on his chest.

“What?” He asked.

“I need to borrow your boots” i said “I’ve been looking at everything wrong…”

Sao Paulo is running out of water.


Sao Paulo is running out of water, doesn’t it sound like the title of an apocalyptic movie?

The biggest city of South America out of the most vital ingredient. Really? Really.

Someone will solve it, right? Those things only happen to small cities in the middle of nowhere, right?

I love one single person out of the 11 million that live here (yeah, you) and that’s enough for me to feel it, to make it my problem too.

That’s how serious i am about this.

That’s how serious i am about you.

I worry but you don’t, and you count down the days to carnival while you drink another beer.

I wonder, i wonder if i should throw the beer at your face.

(I don’t do it)

The city is drying up, and i love her, and i can almost hear her screaming under my feet.

And i stare at the drink dancing slowly around my glass, it feels so selfish, so pointless. You laugh.

Your laughter feels like a road. Like this is all going somewhere, despite of all the stupid fights we have.

“Stop thinking about the water!” You say “You don’t even live here!”

“But you do…” I think, but don’t say it.

They say is a crisis like it had never happened before, too complicated, too big.

Your city is drying up and you are drinking too much.

You laugh close to my ear and the noise hits me like waves.

Your city is drying up and i’m drowning in you.

Maybe i’m in crisis too.

You stare at something on TV, i stare at you.

If this town goes down, i go down.

But you don’t worry…

You melted!

You melted. Just like a candle. Right in the middle of the kitchen.

Couldn’t it had been another room?

You just had to choose the wood floor…


You melted and we pretended you were still whole.

You kept watching TV, eating, we kept asking you for money.

You melted and it made listening to you harder, a dad on liquid state.


You were so small, you simply slipped outside.

Through the smallest gap under the door.

When people want to leave they transform to fit the exits.


And you left, and i was a kid, and i wondered…

And for years i hid under the pillow my fire hands.

Please don’t let me sleep.

lula avila

Don’t let me fall asleep.

I ask him.

I feel like i’ll stop existing if i close my eyes.

We are on a bed.

He has his side, his pillow.

He turns his head to look at me.

I never know what you mean, he says.

And it drives me crazy, because the sad spitting monsters are in the room, all around us, laughing, one right next to him!

And i point, but he groans and turns his head around.

We go to the zoo, and he doesn’t understand why i only want to stare at one animal the entire time.

But it makes more sense,

But he says it doesn’t.

I try to make him see, but he never does.

My thoughts reach his mind but don’t make the right shapes.

Maybe he can’t, maybe it works like that.

He has his pillow, i have mine, he has his world, i have mine.

And we lie down right next to each other.

Don’t let me fall asleep please, i say.

I feel like i stop existing when i close my eyes.

He sighs.

Maybe i don’t exist in his world either.


He turns his head around again,

But i don’t think he sees me.

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