Don't wake us up when tomorrow arrives, we'd rather be dreamers

miércoles, 1 de marzo de 2017

let it flow out of proportion (spit)


like an ever expanding cavity in my chest

the anger is a mere decoy

unfortunate hunger

for bones narrowed at the tips

the truth is

the breath between a blank face

and the first weep

i am undoing

my love bleeds through my skin

(now i know it was the love for humanity that came out of jesus pores under the moonlight and not fear

i am no mesiah

-yet i would die for love)

picking up the pieces

the crumbles

of this facade

of knowledge

i am left with raw flesh

and exposed nerves

i am nowhere near absolution

unless it comes from the hands of my beloveds

but the world is fractured

and i am left on a verge

to another fragment

in which another one exists

and reaching out always means

running the risk of cutting

-and yet i would saw my veins willingly for that

there is a pain

behind my blurred eyes

and my panting lungs

and the sadness that i cannot understand

and maybe it is because all the emotion barricaded is lashing out at my corporeal manifestation

my throat is cleanched

and i am dying

a joyous death, perhaps


if love can do that


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