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Quote by Gerson De Rodrigues

“Poema - Insônia São três horas da manhã e eu não consigo dormir Encaro o vazio com a mesma paixão que judas encarou a crucificação de cristo Mudo completamente mudo! Nos devaneios de um inquietante silencio a minha mente flerta com ideias suicidas que se reveladas trariam mais miséria ao mundo Nas auroras dos meus pensamentos o universo se curva sobre a minha vontade e a minha mente não se cala nem por um segundo Por fora sou um homem apático frio como se nunca pensasse em nada calado como um homem mudo que vendeu sua alma ao diabo Eu me levanto e vou até o banheiro encaro no espelho a figura de um homem morto O que é a morte para quem nunca viveu? Naquele quarto sozinho eu sou deus sobre um reino de baratas e desprezo Das minhas janelas eu escuto os pássaros cantarem mas é impossível a última vez que eu olhei o relógio eram três horas da manhã Abro as janelas assustado e vejo uma rua repleta de gente pessoas dos mais diversos tipos O barulho das correntes em seus pés me deixam louco não adianta gritar para avisá-los eles não podem vê-las tampouco escuta-las Passei a madrugada inteira pensando e não vi a hora passar eu deveria estar surpreso mas isso acontece todos os dias Fecho a janela para não escutar as correntes ou os gritos dos deuses a clamarem pelo meu nome Eu moro sozinho desligo o telefone para não me procurarem Volto para cama aonde eu afogo todos os meus sentimentos compartilhando com o nada as minhas dores E sem que eu perceba adoeço todos os dias com a maldição de viver Eu deveria ligar para os meus pais e dizer que está tudo bem mas eles morreram quando eu tinha dezesseis e desde então estou sozinho no mundo Todos os meus amigos se afastaram de mim mas não posso culpa-los quem seria amigo de um homem insano? Penso todos os dias em suicídio a primeira vez que eu pensei eu tinha doze Levanto da cama e amarro um lençol na parte mais alta do quarto E encaro a mim mesmo dependurado com os meus pés tentando tocar o chão mas já era tarde demais para rezar o diabo havia tocado a minha alma São três horas da manhã e eu não consigo dormir...”

Quote by Gerson De Rodrigues

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Gerson De Rodrigues

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“Her tone changed from shocked to curious. “How was it? Was it… different?” Sarah bit her lip, ashamed to be gossiping but feeling the strong urge to tell. “Yes,” she confided. “He’s nothing like John. Nothing like him at all.” “Really? What was different? Did he…?” Grace waved a hand as though erasing a chalkboard. “Oh, forget it. I shouldn’t be asking this. But,” again her voice lowered, “is he tattooed everywhere?” Sarah knew it was wrong to talk about him like this, but her inner schoolgirl took over and she nodded, eager to share details. “He’s beautiful … like a stained glass window. And he’s really good with his … mouth.” She raised an eyebrow, giving Grace a significant look. Her friend gasped and giggled. “But isn’t it weird? Touching him?” “Skin is skin, Grace,” Sarah chided. “The tattoos are only on the surface, you know. He’s a man.” A sexy, vulnerable, intense, attractive, responsible, sweet, gentle and loving man.”

“Finally, he slipped his arms around her too. Her eyes closed in relief. “I was thinking,” His voice rumbled against her ear. “That I’ve brought you so much trouble after everything you’ve done for me. Maybe it’s not too late to fix it. If I leave…” “No!” She pulled away and looked up into his face. It was swollen red around one eye and his nose. Brown flecks of paint marred the blue swirls. “That’s not going to solve anything.” He stroked the side of her face, his thumb lingering across her lips. “If I leave, it will be better.” “Not for me.” Tears welled at the corners of her eyes and she blinked them away. He gathered her close again, kissing the top of her head and rubbing his hand on her back. “Don’t cry. ” When Sarah thought about it later, she would realize that he had never added, “I’ll stay.”

“The little group before her finally moved on and Sarah took its place, standing before Tom like he was a painting in a museum. And then his vacant eyes dropped from that point somewhere above her head and he looked at her—looked into her eyes and registered her presence. His eyes widened and his mouth opened wordlessly. For the space of six heartbeats they stared at one another and then Sarah simply said, “Come home.” She held her hand out to him. He gazed at it for a moment. “Come with me,” she said softly. Slowly he rose from his chair and walked toward her. He slipped his hand into hers and his palm was warm and callused. She stepped back and pulled him along with her. Suddenly his arms went around her, hugging her tight, his head dropped to her shoulder and his mouth pressed into her hair as he whispered, “I can’t believe you’re here.” Her hands slipped up the smooth, supple skin of his back to hook over his shoulders. She buried her face against his chest, breathing him in, forgetting time and place and circumstance and just holding him.”

“The exhaustion apparent in his slumped shoulders made her heart twist. He looked so tired she wanted to rub his back and stroke his hair, as a mother would for a child. This was natural compassion, she decided, and walked toward him to give him what comfort she could. He finally heard her and lifted his head from his arms. Locks of sandy hair fell over his forehead and he looked up at her with deep indigo eyes. Even in the dim light, she could see pain etched across his features. What horrors stalked his dreams? What could she do to help him sleep peacefully? For a long moment they gazed at one another and then Huiann rested her hand on his shoulder. At the same time, Alan leaned into her body. They came together like two halves of an eggshell carefully broken. He slid a hand around her waist and pulled her closer. His face pressed against her breast. His arms wrapped around her. She held him, cradling his head, rubbing his back. His body was so warm in her embrace. Her heart beat steadily and her stomach flipped in slow, lazy somersaults. The moment she’d sensed coming for so long was here. What would happen next? For a long time, they remained locked in perfect union, contented, safe, no longer alone. As she caressed his hair, soft as she’d imagined, he tilted his face to look up at her. His eyes glittered in the lamplight. He wanted more and Huiann realized she did too.”

“When the Warrior pulled her half onto his lap and she felt the hard bulge of his erection thrusting up from his groin pressing into her hip, Katya grew nervous. She pulled away, gasping, and pressed him back with her hand on his chest. “Wait! Wait.” She licked her tingling lips and touched them with her fingertips, wondering what she’d been thinking to awaken this sleeping giant. What had happened to her vow to fight him off with all her strength? Turan’s dark eyes glowed like two banked coals ready to ignite into flame. “Please. More,” he begged hoarsely. “Please.” She suddenly realized that, despite the fact he could snap her in two if he wished, she was the one with the power. He didn’t intend to hurt or force her.”