I have my nose inside the palms of my hands,
I rub them hard... Everywhere,
As to smell the rain trapped inside the walls of this humid city,
My eyes on top of my feet,
To have the view of the sky,
While I walk towards the abyss.
Leading me nowhere, I leave nothing behind.
And this mouth,
Can be found on the most sensitive part of my knees,
Tasting the dry earth,
Every time I fall down.
Might be your skin.
Because I'll hit your body hard.
Desintigrating and becoming one with the concrete.
As my senses, confused are,
Listening to the screaming water,
And the agonizing pain of artificial flowers.
Yet, no human voices I get to savor.
But I only hear tremors.
A fear of madness,
Keeps these days sane as much as they can be.
Schizophrenic portraits of floating ghosts.
Now, eternally inked like scars,
They rip my stomach apart,
Same site where enamored flies used to stay at.
I walk and walk...
Drawing vile burns on this baby skin.
Can't wait for the moon to bloom once again.
I'll start purging anecdotes in the form of hostile words.
Cringe, but please...
Do not leave.