I dream of dead people
Of maltractated bodies from the movies
Of grandmother
Of horses with their guts cut open

They are never frightening
Never more or never less
The most terrifying in my dreams
Is the manager I work for

He is schizophrenic
Like my Brother
Has black hair
And piercing eyes
Like my Brother

Sometimes I wake up
Wanting to be dead
I'd rather be a good dream
With paper thin skin
And loving hands

Than a living nightmare
With black hair
And penetrating eyes

**So I search for death

They said, I should pretend that she was sleeping
That dying wasn't so bad
And I should have faith,
Hope,
That she would wake up
To cradle me in her arms again

But she didn't.
The tubes crawling under her skin
Only grew in numbers.

This would be her fight
Struggling by herself
Her foes outnumbering her
Slithering down her throat
Suffocating her,
They make her breathe
Gliding under her soft skin,
They are nourishing her

They are inside of her!

She looks like life has almost left her,
And now, the snakes **** out the last of all that is her
Her warmth
Her softness
Her plumpness
They say it isn’t so
But I am not blind

They say, it might not be too late,
But only Rigor Mortis is late
Nonetheless, he will come
Along with his hooded brother
Just because her limbs are not stiff
Does not mean she hasn’t passed *limbo

They say, it might not be too late,
But only Rigor Mortis is late
Nonetheless, he will come
Along with his hooded brother
Just because her limbs are not stiff
Does not mean she hasn’t passed limbo

Once upon a time
There was a couple who loved each other dearly

**This is not their story

A life is made of moments
Of both good and bad
 
In your present,
On your lips

All our conversations linger

You will not look at me.

Not even look at the brave face I practiced
Not look at the smile I painted
Not at the dry eyes I skillfully mastered

This mask I made for you to see
But still, you will not look at me
As if my fakeness, will mutilate the image you have of me

*I can tell you, it will.