we don't know why we wake up this way,
feeling that something is wrong,
feeling late,
as if it had already passed the time
to commit our crimes
and it was too late to go to the balcony
to dry the blood on our hands in the sunlight.
when will we be able to sacrifice the pure,
immolate the naive
that disgust us by their innocence?
us maniacs,
raving naked around our apartments.
condominium sociopaths,
blustering and slipping in slippers
through these urban labyrinths where we kill dreams,
armed with the infamy of styleless criminals,
using ridiculous blows from rheumatic assassins.
Categories:
styleless, anxiety, city, emotions,
Form: Free verse