The Lights of My Darkness
My dreams are nightmares.
I am forced to stay awake through sleepless nights
so I won’t hear the lamentations of my ghosts.
Endless monologues with my demons.
The devil fears the darkness that perfumes my mind,
a descendant of a cannibal tribe.
I violate all human laws
that massacre my dignity.
Being a slave is not in my plans.
It’s war until the graveyard.
Indelible scars,
medals to adorn my boldness.
The suffering my body endures
turns my life into a horror film.
I hate the human species
and I have no pet to compensate.
These insatiable parasites call me a psychopath.
I dream of slitting a pedophile’s throat
before the eyes of a rapist
waiting for his hour of execution.
I am a predator,
I will never endure their persecutions.
Hatred has replaced love in my heart.
A hardened criminal, not sentimental.
Nothing romantic,
poetry is grim
like the entrails of hell.
I carry the lights of darkness,
like the chains
that gnawed at the flesh of my dehumanized ancestors
in slave plantations.
I hate misery
and the savagery of capitalism.
I am addicted to life
like a junkie hooked on his dose of crack.
I will end up in the mud
on which I urinate every day.
I will end up consumed
by these fleeting vanities.
I go off-road
on the highway of dissent,
with my neuroses
and my transgressions as rearview mirrors.
No box, no code, no rules,
I am an outlaw.
With copper-toned skin, like the shoes of American supremacists
during the transatlantic slave trade,
traces of lashes
are still visible on my face.
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