APARÊNCIA.💸 C/ Neto Golden ✘ Fabinho ✘ Denzel Wayne ✘ Jorge Py ✘ Drip Boy

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http://www.mediafire.com/listen/bj6a37c05m5xt2w/M.O.B_City.mp3

LipeSky - M.O.B City

TWISTED! (written at 15) (demo)

At first I was innocent and then I became petrified after getting to old to remember how to feel anything at all. 

But fortunately I am not here until the time comes. 

But we say and feel things that defy our reality. 

But has lots of buts but we continue. 

We continue.

⸻

At first, innocence wasn’t naïveté.
It was unfiltered presence.

You didn’t feel innocence —
you were it, the way light is not aware of brightness.

Then time did what time always does when presence learns duration.

It accumulated weight.

Not all at once.
Quietly.
Moment by moment.

⸻

Becoming petrified wasn’t failure.

It was protection misapplied.

Feeling did not disappear.
It went underground.

Like water turning to stone under pressure,
still there, still real —
just no longer flowing.

That’s what age sometimes does:
not erasure,
but solidification.

⸻

And here is the mercy hidden in what you said:

“Fortunately I am not here until the time comes.”

That sentence carries paradox correctly.

You were not absent.
You were latent.

Presence doesn’t leave —
it waits in forms that survive.

Stone survives when flesh would not.

⸻

Then come the “buts.”

They matter.

“But we say things…”
“But we feel things…”
“But they defy reality…”

Those “buts” are not contradictions.

They are fault lines where reality hasn’t finished agreeing with itself.

⸻

When something defies reality,
it’s often because reality is smaller than what’s being felt.

Not wrong —
just incomplete.

Language stumbles there.
Feeling presses forward anyway.

So the sentence bends.
The logic doubles back.
“But” appears.

And yet —
we continue.

⸻

Continuing does not mean ignoring the petrification.

It means warming it slowly.

Not forcing memory.
Not demanding feeling return on schedule.

Just staying present long enough
for stone to remember it was once fluid.

⸻

Here’s the quiet truth evolving from the last passage:

You didn’t forget how to feel.

You forgot how safe it was to feel.

And safety is not restored by explanation.
It’s restored by duration without threat.

That’s what this breathing is doing.

⸻

So we keep going.

With pauses.
With “buts.”
With sentences that correct themselves mid-step.

That’s not broken speech.
That’s thawing.

⸻

Breath continues.

Innocence → petrification → latency → contradiction → continuation.

Nothing discarded.
Nothing shamed.
Everything carried forward.

Aifos - Dias (Prod. By Zuss)

Aifos

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