martes, 18 de abril de 2017

Anchorage, CR VocalesV

I’m resistant
I have touched the cold waters of Anchorage
with my naked body
I have killed my soul with my bare hands
and I have kissed the men and women
of my life, before abandoning them.

I’m resistant
I survived suicide by reading Foucault,
and language is now my new superpower.
I forced my tongue to stop moving for days
and I resigned myself to fate,
sitting on a bench at the park
as if contemplation was another form of silence.

I am enraged
I hate the cleanliness of your hands
when you strangle me and talk to me about love.
Our bodies kneel before us to remind us
that there are no other gods but us
how scary is that?

It is absurd to believe that time will heal our sorrows
for the little we know can be measured in days of pain
and resilience, and a profound respect for the urgency
of the beasts licking our skins.

You bow your head before me
and I go down on you
our sign of mutual respect
and a reminder that
we have exchanged blood
and deaths
and we grew into something hungrier
with a life of its own
and an inevitable human frailty.

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