Hello,
Poetry.
I see the
fangs between your lines
snap shut to disguise
wrinkles revealing
traumatic speeches
scribbled without care
yet shouted so scared.
Words scarred and slashed with
swords of
insecurity,
blue and red bars slice
the tale you tried to
save for me,
bleeding out stories
through the tears in these
ruled pages,
pour them in the cups
of the audience
so they relate with.
I take just one sip.
I’m already drunk,
cut out my favorite lines,
pasting phrases to my life,
******* away my pain,
rejected in recycling,
cycling confessions,
crying on my recollections,
sponge away my sorrow tears
and squeeze it on the stages.
Claps of the people
start evaporation and
the sensation serves me
confidence to condensate
the ink off my dissertation.
Final salutation,
spotlights off and
goodbye,
Poetry.