Wrapped

No I can't laugh

and it stays

without a name the sugar we give

What time do we meet ... They will come

later

to realize how they strangled me

I don't reflect anymore

I am the father I am the mother

I am the son

who will live in the DNA of the plants

that love me

I will be

the same thing that feeds the yeast

a sedated rumble

The stories to fly are programmed

I already have hallucinations of God

His apron has been removed

but the pain continues

biting

and there are many surreptitious moments

The soul faces it

like a fish

The matter

attract hungry flies

and I go

like the hair behind the vertebrae

of a girl

helpless

like a journalist

blowing himself up at three