July 12/04
Too much rumination on the hate for others
has left me without words
To avoid their strident shouting
my will has made me deaf
Blind I could scape
from the diverse faces of their decadence
But I can still feel
a cold swirl
nesting in every pore
Taste in my palate
this eternal thirst
for the inconceivable
Perceive the stench
of this body
that is rotting
El Matallana