Anxiety was touching the mime
I cannot hold a reality.
We were playing with each other.
The creation and hunger of living
takes you to unknown fields
I am, what I am not.
Always bluffing, puffing on the road,
counting the milestones
in reverse osmosis,
feeling proud of mighty mistakes,
talking to faltered ego,
going against the sun.
My climate merges with hot desert
A story reappears again and again
like a dried skeleton in sands.
How long I will run
chased by planetary fears?
Barbs pierce the tender zones
I see my own demise,
body floating like a flower on lake.
not an explanation of human sorrow, but rather a vigorously crafted embodiment of its existence. Well done, sjg
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Each and every thing that you give me I will take. These things will be placed on a pyre and purified. They will be the nutrients from which a familiar monster will grow. Silently, with a tongue that longs for some one else's viscous saliva.