Visions from last September SS
As I look in union of singularity in a world of complexe opposition and harmony.
A splinter in the heart of dream and tearing in the blood cells.
I slaughtered the necks of hopes, bleeding the burning from pains.
A mirror of dry salt-tears reflects the fracture.
And the self has nothing left but the desire to vanish the whole structure.
After long waiting and the stalling of suicide attempts
From exhaustion I feel no enough essence for two lives.
The first, in exile.
The second in the middle between a kiss of the eye
The eye that does not weep, it only stares.
Gazing to reveal contemplations about the soul’s hidden monuments,
Peering over thresholds to inspect the secrets of the universe.
I pluck out the snail of my ear; I try to listen to the echo of the hoarse voice,
Fixing my gaze on the bridge’s edge,
where the wave casts obscene images:
Of tortured bodies and heads cut off before inspiration could visit them.
Because God refused to touch them,
Yet the devil from the pit touched them.
A train without a ticket to take me where there is no memory,
No memory except that I come from afar,
And that the heart is the single meaning of iron.
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