PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

nothing makes sense at night

even the colorful dreams are black and white lies

we sleep we sleep

no sound to take a rifle shot

we go somewhere

through something that looks like a fisherman’s net

we can’t fight

we have a hammer in our heart that beats only death sentences

smile

tomorrow will be an even bigger nothing

from which to learn putting an arm over the other

the lifting shoulders theory

I like to believe that blood in my veins is wine

that I can erase moon like an annoying mole on the breast

I like to believe that I can be gentle

when the winter replaces my wrists

I don’t share my darkness with nobody

not even poetry.

I’m like a bird which is always building the same nest

although it’s always destroyed by a broom

in my sleep my lord forgives me for all my sins 

and I pull these eyelids like blinds

and I pull my life like my mother’s dress

and more often when i shut up

it’s a problem

I am we are

children of fear

but there’s always a bed in which our memory gets wiped

and that is good.