August 7, 2012 § Leave a comment
From those lies I carry in my fingers high
smoke is exhaled throughout lacerations
carry hybrid rations for its mind
traveling from body to body, side to side
smelling as bad as your mouth once tasted.
I venture to ignite my hand in its direction
towards what I see but I do not believe
punching dry, those fists of mine,
closed tight as the Pope’s secret domicile
in a wooden box made of iron melting in summertides.
Billions points of view
none shall raise an eye
Blabber apocalypse and evil minds
we already live the doom we fear
it is scalding for a reason.
The feather touches the dirty ground you pray we kiss
millions circling in desperation
with no self-respect inborn laid soul
the wealth is your paradise.
Few perceives although I see thy eyes staring at sides
squinting the flanks in which your fruits keep dry
as the cocoon in casket you once were
even if still empty you still are.
It is with no hatred I tell this tale,
the fakedox is cramped inside,
Fearing it is never coming out.