The visions interlace
becoming a monochromatic mass.
They sleep in my imaginary uterus...
There, they remain warm
and are wrapped out
of the evils of the world
while getting ready
to dilate their pupils
and let the light go through
Their photosensitive skins.
Did I find them?
Or did they find me?
…It’s God who decides
To put them into my flesh
and forces me to give birth on knees?
... I bid with all my strength
finding pleasure in pain
and in the dissociation of my being
And finally I see them:
little nymphs come out
from the waterfall of my belly
and the darkness of my viscera ...
Still wet with insecurities,
Dirty of the sebum of my beliefs.
Not totally accustomed
to the misfortunes of the earth
nor the larvae and beetles
That perch in the trees.
Some other times they come out cleaner,
more pure and grown,
but without so much beauty ...
without the delicacy of who can die
if being sharply manipulated.
Then I take them in my arms,
I watch them
And create lullabies
to swing them
and make them dream
polymorphic universes
of multicolored skins
and names that never were said.
Image: Pinterest.
