I see you in the dark shapes under my eyes,
Where I’ve been losing sleep
Over contemplations and other intangible
Mysteries of the black storm beneath my chest.
That heavy block – organs, flesh, blood…
Of all things, my blood shares not your blue hue,
But if I were the sky,
I’d bleed in globules of rainfall dark.
Still, that organism beats irregularity. Stilled.
I forgot I was working away the pain –
Yet, how can I complete any masterpiece?
Without a muse, I stew without a soul.
Mimic my words like a pen without an owner,
Inscribe my touch with a senseless breath;
I beg you: take my voice and use my transcript.
At least then I’d share your separate lips.
Question after question, rushing torrent,
Claim me. Inquiries, not their inquirers, carry gifts:
Are your walls as towering as mine?
Do you precipitate like the clouds
With my eyes in the shadow of the moon
And sun? Broken – the sky fell with me,
Yet the gods stayed in their heavens.
Now my night is dawning,
My eyes are closed by petty exhaustion.
Sleep comes crawling with an apology.
It matters not.
meum errumpis pectum