Imagine there’s no heaven
we cry again
over sins and solitude masks
we deserve this smashed tongue,
we try always to rise somebody affection
but we own shadows… above us
singleness fulfill us, plenty of us
will die tomorrow:
Which is the meaning of strong
families? When we scroll this tinny
appetite —this swallowed sexual instinct
hazarding our memory and body—
we crawl down the being and the bee and the do
is nothing else but the way we were again
a curly, perverted, shinned capitalistic age.
Our coin is against us
and we are against the monkey man
that climb over our heads
smiling for the audience.
Do we deserve our latin names?
We can’t handle the mistake
of being and our sorrow speaks
louder than the sun.
We forgot as we forgive.
Please don’t punish the destructive landscape
insulting this minute,
please, call 911
and let me be miss understood
the rest of this machine life.
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