Lights reflect  the vital points

on her body.

An Illusion

nearly terminated.

Already numb

and on It’s way

through a challenging  night.

Progressive patterns are in motion

like these veins

rigged by liquor and fire.

The random and dim flashes

create a rhythm,

Borrowed by the stomping hooves of a creole Mephistopheles,

His mantra  parades  a scorched melody on your head.

There’s no guitar on that half bred.

We are escape artists tonight

And with a mission

These cheap boots fail to resist

And they stumble upon the pale

and yet cheerful dance.

We are at siege

by a fleet of  bills

Folded into the smallest

Paper boats you ever seen

It’s a  horseless apocalypse,

But you feel the stomp getting deeper

like the steady beat of a Movie God,

Like Lee as Walker heading for the bed

Like  chalk

drawing over the cloth,

Preparing that child sized

dark heroic cape

of  Zorro

It wraps everything  in black,

But It rips into pieces

Like being pushed and shoved

through the high school hall

Like the wavy threads

of  broken mix tapes

scattered through the floor.

Like the pharmaceutical taste

steaming out  from

that ball-pen crack pipe

Like sperm and sweat stains

On an old pair of jeans.

Like losing teeth

out of a single blow to the face,

from that fucking junkie

on a hustling spree

Learn to escape.

Learn to fake

that biblical peace.

Make the cape fall

like a sudarium over the child

while he rests like a carcass

on a demented Pieta

with sewing needles

stuck to her palms

This sacred nobility

Smears that crayon colors

From the spit that drips

down your face

and  then

The mirror cracks a wound

Father, son and the death bed.

Fractal, dimensional,

Wish I could be a Titan,  a ramming  Capricorn

with those horns of fortune

Out of the shell

shooting golden doubloons from a lost armada

into the black hole

and out from that glass door.

just for a miracle.

But it shatters out of a scream.

Hands, wrists, twist and shake

They put up a fight.

A shameless one.

She is both the witness

and the victim,

That bird of migration,

far from the tropics

sheltered on this lost scarecrow

Roughly sewed

with diamond sheets,

like a shady harlequin

seen from afar.

Fearlessly, She beaks the straw

Nesting on my rib cage

Making me question

was I ever lost.

But out of this stuffed, embodied fear

Perpetually woven and patched,

I fatally repulse

the only dream

yet to grasp

Without ribbons on her hair,

She twirls like a tornado

And with all her might and justice

I get dragged

into the core

There’s no Oz nor Kansas

in this fucked up storm

The elements crash

Between lashes

of sex and dirty words

Until that furious cycle

surpasses the boundaries of sublime

like that exquisite opiate

of eternal faint.

I will dare

a fraction of you again.

Porto | MMXV