Friday Thirteen

"Last friday thirteen had caused strange modifications in my hormones. Ever since I feel like a wolf, I mean, a south americam werewolf in London. And, standing in London, I must speak and write in english. So in one full moon's night, I wrote this..."


Talking About Angels


I don't believe in flying saucers. I don't believe in ghosts. I don't believe in life after death. I think I don't believe in anything that seems exotic. Oh god! Why I'm so skeptic?
I don't believe in Angels completely. But, another night, I dreamed with three kinds of Angels:
The first Angel appeared when I was born. He had the face of my mother.
The second Angel, was my Guard Angel. One day looking me, carefully, in a mirror, I discovered that the Guard Angel was truly myself.
The third Angel came to me in a smoking cloud. He didn't say anything, but I knew that my time was out. I remember that I beg him just one thing. I beg:
"Please, just take my life without pain".




Poem of the Day:

Even The Angels Die

I wanted to fly, on the clouds

And move then with my breath.

I wanted to swim among the stars,

And swallow them with my kiss.

I wanted to get the infinite blast

Just to bring it true

And make the impossible, at last,

Just to be with you.

But baby, I have no intend

Don't you know why?

Even the Angels die,

And tou need to understand

I live my life like a hard bet

And with you, is much better.

Travelling so many times, yet

For places we've never been later.

I want to feel, so much, still

The scent of your savoury flower.

I want, at last, join my soul to yours

For we live a big love toghether.

But baby, I have no intend

Don't you know why?

Even the Angels die,

And you need to understand.

By Richard 2010