Hello, My Name is Immigrant, and I am a scar tissue stretched over the jagged teeth of a border fence. My words may still cut like glass, but now they are muffled by the sound of heavy boots on the porch and the hum of white vans idling at the curb. My tongue still struggles to embrace a new cadence, but now it also learns the heavy silence of a mouth held shut to stay invisible. The Architecture of Fear Hello, My Name is “Targeted Enforcement,” and I am the embodiment of a perseverance that has been forced into hiding. … Continue reading Hello, My Name is Immigrant II: The Steel and the Shadow

A long life to all those who bother us with their singularities. To those who disturb other people’s shadows with sharp illuminances. To those who disarm idiotic convictions with sharp intelligence. To those who burn and to set on fire, they expel and forgive, scratch and welcome with equal ease. Long life to those who invite the dance, the abyss, the love, the embrace and the imbalances. And those that stretch in life, on the bar table, on the bed sheets and in the space of our longings… ❤ Continue reading Axé!

I am the verse that takes your name, no, not just the name, but the thing-itself. I am the word that confesses the wild pain of longing, that unnamable animal breathing in the dark. To love is to displace the soul; it is to inhabit a house that does not belong to us, a terrifying and holy eviction. When our discussions lose their way in the imperfect past, I seek the future-more-than-perfect, that tense where we finally deserve to exist. You laugh softly, and I draw your mouth with my tongue, a slow calligraphy of the skin. I respect your … Continue reading The Future-More-Than-Perfect

E assim, na vastidão desatenta da vida, inventamos caminhos, ou talvez os caminhos nos inventem primeiro. Caminhar não é apenas deslocar o corpo; é um modo de possuir o espaço. Cada passo é uma dança muda, um equilíbrio precário sobre o abismo de ser. E o tropeço? Ah, o tropeço é a lição que o chão nos dá. Caímos, e no impacto da queda, a carne descobre que é viva. Levantamos. Cansamos. Mas é nesse cansaço, essa “coisa” pesada e doce, que o movimento nos revela quem somos. A fuga, ora veja, é um equívoco de quem não entende de … Continue reading O Ofício de Ser

Jogue tudo fora. Fique nua, não de panos, mas de significados. É preciso arrancar, com as unhas se necessário, as opiniões que embaçam o brilho liso do olhar e os gostos que retalham o coração em “sim” e “não”. Existe um estado que precede o pensamento, uma essência bruta que ignora o julgamento e desconhece o viés. É ali que eu te encontro. Nesse silêncio antes da palavra, somos assustadoramente os mesmos. A minha mente-antes-de-pensar e a sua são uma substância única, uma matéria-prima que nos devolve ao que somos: um pulso conectado ao universo. Não há mais “eu” e … Continue reading O Desvestir da Alma

I have phases, you see, irregular, moon-swept intervals where the ink refuses the page and the charcoal shudders against the paper. On these days, I am nothing but a collection of silences. I allow my own smallness, that cramped and shivering thing, to invite the stupid fears in. They do not just visit; they tame me. They sit in the center of my chest like heavy, uninvited guests, and I forget how to breathe in the language of creation. Sometimes, I simply do not believe in myself. It is a dizzying lack of gravity. But it is precisely in this … Continue reading Phases

Existe, e como dói esse existir silencioso, um exílio que é puro sopro. Um segredo dito em voz baixa, bem ali, onde o mundo desiste de ter bordas. É um lugar que não se explica, apenas se é. Fica escondido atrás de uma porta qualquer, dessas sem maçaneta, situada no sótão alto da consciência, onde o pó das certezas ainda não assentou. É uma fresta. Estreita, etérea, quase um erro de cálculo no espaço. É por esse vão que eu escorrego, fugindo do cansaço das horas, do caos que grita lá embaixo com dentes de ferro. Eu me busco no … Continue reading O Exílio Delicado

Keep me somewhere, in the folds of your heart, where I can reside as a cherished memory, a whisper of love that lingers through time. Fold me enough time to fit inside your shirt pocket, close to your beating chest, and carry me with you wherever you go. Keep me in the lead of your pencil, let my essence flow through every stroke, infusing the words you write with the depth of our connection. Keep me potted by the window, a living reminder of our bond, and water me every day, nurturing our love as you nurture the growing leaves. … Continue reading Close to you …

When the stars murmur their secrets and the moon shines its soft light on the world, you’ll discover that the emptiness inside can’t be filled by the mere presence of others. Their warmth may bless your bed, their hands may entwine with yours, yet the pain of loneliness remains, unaffected by physical touch. An abandoned house remains forsaken, even if it’s bustling with crowds, for the tenant’s absence echoes through its empty corridors. Sometimes, just sometimes, the only savior is the one who resides within. It’s a solitary journey, one that demands you save yourself. There will be days when … Continue reading In the silence of the night