This is currently a Portuguese only post, as its content, a cyberpunk themed short story, was created during a writing event – “It’s Alive” by Imaginauta (you are awesome) in Lisbon, with the purpose of writing a short story of speculative fiction in 4 hours or less. This was my shot at it and I truly hope you enjoy it.


A Noite das Mil Almas era já um acontecimento habitual das elites da alta sociedade runner de Santa Mónica.

As suas vestes predominantemente negras exalavam os ecos de um saudosismo retro-noir, pautadas pelos tons pastéis ocasionais ou pelos gritos de neon emergente, oscilando na característica (não) binária de quem as usava em plena ostentação.

Continue reading “Fonte”

Today Was Hard (or how I struggle with my own impatience)

Wake, shower, drive, wait in line, wait some more, someone telling me I stood in line for nothing for the past hour, drive, walk, wait, talk, wait some more…

I think you get the picture.

This is how my morning sounded like. It kind of went on until slightly past noon.

“So what?” You may wonder. Indeed, doesn’t sound much. In fact, I should be able to deal with this easily, just letting go of all of the unwanted feelings and rise above the low-orbiting, heavy weights that push my mood to the ground. Did I mention it also rained?

Continue reading “Today Was Hard (or how I struggle with my own impatience)”

Love’s True Kiss

Love’s True Kiss

To behold a glimpse
of love’s true kiss
Would make faces turn into awe

For we have, since,
Forgotten such bliss
Since alpha, since the days of yore

What is this – you say – and turn to fly away,
I cannot upon you bestow

The angels’ blessing, with my hand caressing
Your heavy frown

Release thyself then,
From all the past, cumbersome and frail
To enter a brave new world, a new trail,
For you are the who, and now is the when.

© 2015 Tiago Loureiro. All rights reserved.

This one is about Love


So I sat down, after a long day, waiting for sleep to come, waiting for the sweet kiss of night’s tender lips, Persephone’s scent, warm and comforting embrace.

On the floating, shapeless oceans
I did all my best to smile
til your singing eyes and fingers
drew me loving into your eyes.

And I heard you from far away, eyes calling out to me, a desperate cry for release, release from the shackles you built for yourself, from the life you foolishly chose.

And you sang “Sail to me, sail to me;
Let me enfold you.”

Have you dreamt about us? Have you love me as I loved you all this time?

Here I am, here I am waiting to hold you.
Did I dream you dreamed about me?
Were you here when I was full sail?

I have been here, always, a lighthouse to guide you in the never-ending darkness you drove into. Would you let go? Would you see me as your saviour?

Now my foolish boat is leaning, broken love lost on your rocks.
For you sang, “Touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow.”
Oh my heart, oh my heart shies from the sorrow.
I’m as puzzled as a newborn child.
I’m as riddled as the tide.
Should I stand amid the breakers?
Or shall I lie with death my bride?

In both death and life, I will be here, for you, forever. Hear me sing my song of light and warmth to your body. Let my arms touch your soul, if only for a brief second. Let me hold you just for a brief instant, in the everlasting flow of time.

Hear me sing: “Swim to me, swim to me, let me enfold you.”
“Here I am. Here I am, waiting to hold you.”

I am here.



And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

William Shakespeare (A Midsummer Night’s Dream)