Why should we leave our eyes closed even when the mist is gone?
Why should we build forests of symbols on and on and on.
My tongue is sharp but holds the silence
of bloom and bones,
of lights and nights.
I mean the words that I speak.
We follow the tracks of our fathers’ mistakes and then carry the weight of these ten thousand snakes.
We could swallow the pride or held ropes through the sand to transplants the faces that we held in our hands.
We lie, pretend, to get their blessing.
We live pretending we care.
Like rats convinced that light weakens.
I denied the word, I denied the sentence
until I told you that I failed.
I left this place with a stranger,
leaving our souls dry in the sand.
Embroidering a life to hide that the mist is gone.
If I opened my eyes I’d discovered the wrinkles around his eyes.
Pearls of even blistered on his skin.
Fix the battle.
Worship fear.
Worship silence.
Worship fear.
Worship silence.
Voir Dire.
