i have that never
ending problem
and there's no time
for metaphors

feet on the
concrete cracks
that details war
going on in my head

the future, tomorrow and the next day
what form will it take?
how high will the bars be set this time?

and

i wish i was as tough as a dog;
more wounds
more fight left

and i wish this frail fighting
stance would be enough
to conceal my trembling body

i was born the heir
the favorite ******* of
the mother dog of poverty

christened with
lies to reveal

and

distance to ****

this is not my flag
it is my symbol
the ever rusting
seal of reality

the most rabid of dogs
in cages

and

the bluest among the
humming birds

i.
together with
all the other dogs.
refuse.
to.
yield.

till
all our
stilt steps
fills all the cracks

and

the smoke storms
brings death in our
my lungs.