Who is watching me,
waiting for me to betray myself
and show them
where my hollowness lies
so that HE might offer me
something to fill
or cure it.
Who is there to stalk me from any angle,
leaping from folds
of my hungry imaginations
like fire orphans seeking combustible fosters
they burn through my temples
learning to play with my subconscious mind,
exploit my most secret desires
and my most repressive fears.
The God orbits the Earth,
channeling pop-scriptures
into the harbour of my home
and I the weakest soul prostrate before the pseudo-saints,
the media-induct angels
that baptize me with shame
and flaunt an ideological perfection
an illusion we can only aspire to.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Articulate poetry, I enjoyed it...Thanks for sharing.10