Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, 10/12


Yesterday, I call amnesia.
Today is more of the same.
My heart is a hollow place.
It belongs to a dead man.
Melancholy is the name
of my song. My eyes look
at the sun and turn a bright
yellow. I end up seeing a
river of stars, which is just
an illusion. The sun wins.
My hair turns an ancient
gray. I am full of it. I walk
like the wounded. My
pupils are drowned in sun-
light. Delirium fills my mind
as a great void inhabits
my thoughts. Twilight
burns just like the sun
and sings dark songs
that annihilate the world.
The seeds of sorrow dig
into my dream and into
my flesh. Everything has
to do with a woman who
eats the wings of my dream.



Promote. Poetry.
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