My massacre

This post was supposed to be written in portuguese. Under the title of "Meu massacre'', which were the words that jumped out on the imagination of it all.

When it was simple.
And complex.
But utterly simple.

You see when threads of ice run above us all, and we still can see the stars. I sometimes like to around just to see who there lies.
As if.
Just as if.

Let me tell you a simple story.
About what has already been told. The two undisputed finishers, created on one. One, who seems to lose all for he has everything. Holding his hatred in order to protect all. Destroying order to unleash rage on the wicked.
Who's the wicked?
The better question is... who isn't?

I can almost feel your touch. It's funny isn't it? It's dull.
I'm back to the original creation of not so long ago, which is not veeeery likely to be something I can say ''I'm back to...'' since it's not that old. But, if there is someone in the crowd who actually cares, I beg of you, react.
We can improve.
Still. Let's hold on to the topic. Let's hold hands, that's better.
Isn't it hilarious that I mostly think of stupid things instead of sex? I know, it's a problem. I don't fully understand. What, where or how. Nothing. We have nothing.
Yet, I can see you, I can feel your touch. I can create all the possible possibilities. Want to play Ocarina of Time in co-op mode? We could just play together, each on a game, finding out, working together, to finish it. We would have double the firepower! Two searching, fighting, solving puzzles. Helping each other, as it should be.
It should be, right?
Fuck it. It should be and that's about it.
I need to choose paths.
And this is thy path. The path of my ludicrous deranged imagination, the path where I can walk with someone who stays there by my side. One who comforts me.
Remember?
I can feel your hug when the world seems to crack. I can hear your laughter when we do something stupid, I can just look at your eyes when you seem so lost in thoughts, gosh, they're pretty. I can... that's a thing I think about not very much time. We never can all things. But then when you're there, abilities are possibilities. I like it.
Can we just lie down together when I'm not getting any sleep? I hope it doesn't sound so freakish to say that I would just appreciate watching you sleep. But it's funny, it never does. You're always there, even when harsh times come and perhaps we get a bit out of sync. Or we just freak out at each other. It happens. Shit happens.
I go imagining those stupid things, I go on imagining you by my side. And I know someday I will be the one by your side, when you feel like all the world has already left, I'll be there.
Not only because that's what would be fair, but because it would be you.
And it would be worth a lot.
I like it when you play with my hair.
And it's nice that you don't bother so much if I'm so bizarre. I know, we all are, but I'm still working on it. I always thought it was something broken in me, the fact that I don't care whether this or that girl is super hot. While everyone seems to melt in horniness and all that crap.
You see, that's it: you see.

What are those eyes, never closing. And if hatred is all that's left, and if their will is already gone.
Days. Long. Gone.
It hurts to think. Of all the things I should have done. I should have done? Why?
There's no real reason. I just, would like to be the friend you all deserved.
The son you deserved.
The student you deserved.
The man they deserved.
The question that comes with a brutal glass crashing noise. Do they deserve?
As the veins that once served the one and only purpose of feeding the thousand sufferings appear... that's all.
The question is all.
And then, they are nothing.
They never deserved.
We have to punish them.

Iron. I like it. You make loads of things of it. It's useful.
Are we useful? I feel like we haven't been iron for a long time now.
Will we ever be iron?
Iron is only useful for those who see some utility in it.
Purposes...

I like how your hair moves when the wind blows.
I feel weird. And it's stupid because it's not all as it was before when it wasn't.
But then you hug me and I stay without any action.
Or, perhaps, (and I know you didn't see it coming!) that's my action. That's my entire plan just unveiling silently at your arms. Hah.
I just wanted to be hugged. And stay there. And if you don't want to see what have the chain of hatred prepared as plan B, just keep your position.
You hug, I am hugged. Until next orders are prepared.
Aye.

Do you know the levels of dawn?
Do I know something that exists only in your mind?
Game link. For the win.

Sometimes it seems all is lost. Sold your souls.
But, maybe, there's hope. We can still be a part of something in this place we never wanted to be at first place.
I don't hate. I just...
Well, one of the first rules of hating people: live with them.
But... oh well.

Hey waitress, another hug for this table, on my account!

I'm lost. Shit.
Can I punch you 'til I sleep?

It wasn't what it is and will never be what it was. But still, it's something. And seeing it with your eyes may prove me wrong. Or maybe...?

Eyes lie.
People die.