Every week, each friday, always

Somethin' won't let me move. Somethin's holding me back. What an aguish, this one of waiting something that won't come back. Nostalgic impatience between blocked issues. Can't reach. Each friday a grip, a disappointment to my inside, unconscious. Why won't you let go, unconscious? Just let go.
It's like a prison, like water, i drown. Like somethin' that gets stuck on my breathing. Past...I wish i could lock it. Bewilders me, always, any floor i step in, any air i breathe. It blocks.
Declining hope, renascent again. Permanent void, unchangeable useless. Scars. Don't believe it would change, or maybe in a few times.
Why does adaption time always seems so endless? Why's so hard to reach it? When i reach, i lose it again. Moves me. EXPLAIN, satisfy. Fill my void, come with me.

. . .

REACHING BONES

Espaço em branco

Talvez nova fase sob bases instáveis, receosas
Ambas partes atentas, rigorosas
Angustia do passado ou futuro não sei
Em mim cinzas futuras, apenas falei

Desorganiza-me dentro, assimilar
Interiorizar, espaço, breve aceitar
Tempo concreto apenas digo
Não volto atrás, e caminho sólido sigo