This Is Not Art

Poetry to Split the Social Order

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Dancing

in the luminescence of a filthy light bulb
My life is set before me
my skin becomes transparent
and I see all these lines
traversing every night I have thought about death
about killing myself
and I feel like a coward
for considering to capitulate
I want to slit the throat of death
or dance with it
I am not sure which
and that confusion
that is the worst

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