Wrath
I looked straight into Sun's eyes
and challenged her with great audacity
to dry the lakes in my eyes.
I'll let her stab my face
again and again and again
until I lose feeling.
Her flame is jealous
of my blazing wrath
—an eternal state of day
that lights up my never-ending night.
And I'm an insane insomniac,
sane enough to dance to the
silence of the gloomy night.
I'm a pile of emotion and truth
turning into shreds of lies,
and tomorrow I'll be a haze
condensing into wax
over the head of nothingness
to hide anonymous sorrows,
and the day after,
I'll look into the mirror
and find
nothing . . .
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