The pushed bodies clotting in the veins of a city.
The black cells, armed with batons and horses
Driving them out like the heart trying its best
To pump out the wastes of the body.
But sometimes the heart is too frail.
Helpless turtles turned on its metal shell
Molested by fists and voices.
Despicable fish-mouths hooting and whoo-ing.
Dirtied, scraped hands clapping for more.
Ruined faces and broken bottles everywhere.
The explicit romance of lovers. Kisses exchanged in delirium, in another world.
Marshmallows of fire, seen from the sky, oozing out a sweet, overwhelming scent.
They are alive. They are watching us.
This shameless riot gives them breath, gives them life.
Unexpected complications wrapped in ribbons made of tear gas
Sent around the globe like presents by an early Santa Chaos.
This year, for us, a whole city of coals.
I think I know what Hell will look like. A hall of mirrors. That frightens me the most.
So I pray for rain.