OTRO POEMA DE MIERDA

I carry the grief on my arms

and he always wanted to be

more than that

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maybe a mirthful being

maybe a rotting body

that instead of worms

has child dreams above.

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The sadness devours me

like an ice cream

made of sperm

dirt

and corpses

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i can’t get away from her

she’s my only home.

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But if you got tender around

and bodies that love your strut

how can you be so ungrateful

others say

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don’t you know?

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no one can save you

from being slowly consumed

by your own death

and hoping to be understood

is the most painful illusion

that god created on earth.

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(That's why i don't talk about

what's hurting me inside

cause what else can you do

that i haven't tried on myself before?)

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And i'm sorry

for missing the harm on my flesh

i don't know how to live

with my skin clean.