deepundergroundpoetry.com

Then Blood

for nights and nights along
I wandered without a guide
without guard without you
where were you I don't know
the cold you felt
did not cover
I try to guess
how did you survive
and I didn't find you
on landscaped balconies
or hotel lobbies
you watched me
I know in the moonlight
gloomy steeples
by the roadside
off the maps
buried ark of pirates
with your eyes fire
of fireworks
to explode in the skies
gray seas
that I sailed around you
in vain...
return to recipient
they all stamped
the looks I sent you
stubborn
I didn't give up the cards
with views
so obvious and portrayal
true to their points
Touristic
as if your eyes
dangerous and slow
omnipresent
not all colored ones
and then in pieces
leave them at the bottom
out of a basketů
I spent days kissing your lips
in the bedroom mirror
and your eyes don't
were there
your cow eyes
wolf in heat
the sea licked me
from the bowels
your absence
high tide took you
to the shores of the earth
Of fire...
I watched the horses
to ruminate foolishly
the grass in front
your house
the seven black arrows of jealousy
stuck me to the core
of the flesh
red light at 45 degrees
off tango...
waning phase of black moon...
the knife and the rose shed blood
tattooed anchors
panties hanging in the box
passion is a bunch of fur
on the toothbrush
I've been hiding in the street
I thought you would never arrive
we have to find someone to blame
for the crimes
and let's do the discussion
in cordial terms...
let's face it my angel
you never thought to tell me
the lies
wistfully normal
of lovers
we always kept
between us
the frankness of the fakes...
I turned off the light
you locked the door
and we ate
in our gas chamber
Mein Got
how we were wrong
I wore your lipstick
and spanked you
you teared up and left
to the manicure
your red nails
they tortured me
the testicles
hurt the unforgettable
rhythm of hitting your
buttocks and I covered you...
you stole the sheet
on feverish nights
March almost ended
or early April...
I drooled your shoulder many times
and you almost broke your collarbone
don't stand there looking at me
wide open
that I need to find a way
to clean the blood
of the kitchen fixtures.


PAR
Written by PAR (PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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