27.-This is not going to stop until you wake up so give up Poem by Dolores Dorantes

"27.-This is not going to stop until you wake up so give up. A gust of birds. A handful of girls like flowers. We're here for your preamble. We walk to you. Some of us arrive late to put on our muzzles. We have a mask of you, of your closed eyes. Someone calculated each face. Goldwork applied painfully onto the skin of sky. Someone's hand gave form to each lip. It created the lip and stimulated the lip. It created it like a blow. Someone placed on our mask your lip."