the floating world
II
maru delgado
VI
I secretly live in the suburbs,
playing with clay where the dogs eat
and I've slept with the corpse of a child
in the back of a burnt van
I do not want a grave with a prayer to heaven
or play with spectra’s jaws
who, in love, save my hours of shame
My past has to be hung
On the walls in the unknown
or at the flashing headlights
of this Gray city
rotating in the rush of the Book of the Dead
Women expecting
that no one dares to see.
VII
I'm saying goodnight
and my head hangs lifeless
behind the door
A confused epitaph screams my name
and the needle returns to zero
as the gravity of my touch
Resistance is
to abandon everything that makes sense
VIII
The day the first virgin died
in a Greek Orthodox church
someone painted an output
or a recently powered maze
of false starts
where God's eyes dissolve with moisture
abandoned by the rubble of the night sky
This is the life we fear
be another line of bricks and cement
who masturbates a minotaur
on the emptiness’ forms
IX
A red dress is imposed
in the crack of torn hairs
after the meat rental
and cruel morning steps
that
blink
blink
blink
After all
as hematomas
remain closed
to the dance of silence
The armpit stains
Erase every trace of beauty
as patches
on a broken doll hanging
from the strings of dour post-hymen
X
There is a false virgin
in the distance muting the stereo
of an invisible monologue
that means gnawing time on electrical wires
of the cities destroyed by the hand of god
the symbol of light wandering
to the possibility of suffocation
We pile the Static breath color
and atoms stricken tears
in the corruption of human fictions
and desired intention is exceeded
when we watch for last season ghosts,
Waiting on an angel falling from the night,
Oh a radiograph of the moon
or between the cracks of a false morning
which is fossilized to hell
from another planet next to nothing
Above, paradise is a shadow
phrasing the oldness of our future centuries
more by maru delgado