Saturday, March 27, 2010

Throat

This scream shall be swallowed
for the time being at the very least
The size of a fully-formed fist punching
down my throat
Every day when I am not asleep
the pressure of lacking a smile as I woke

This painting shall be hung
Up on the highest wall of my memory
With the bright red color of shame
poisoning rivers of dead fish and dirty water
A scenery for which no one's to blame

This chill shall be faced
fully and bravely, still
for as long as it takes for me to know
when I am gonna stand on my own
and not sinking down ships for cheap thrills

not enough time to heal

1 comment:

Matheus said...

Lindo, como sempre.