Poetry

Coming back with
nipples and fangs, all
the black visions.
 
Those lunging at the
helpless prey, a hundred arms,
pythonic- to squeeze
the life out of
the rising voice.
 
You were my trust,
my secret, then why this
curse,
of your signs, your signature,
your face?
 
You were me, I was you.
We were not different, I open
my chest to receive the bullets
the stone, the stick.
 
The words.They swim
like dolphins, whistling
crossing the horizons
reaching beyond the colored dresses.