I know:
It’s a good thing that no one should see me.
With frightening calm, I was watching what was going on, how he had the most extraordinary power over a number of human beings that human eyes had never seen.
Fearful but it’s a good thing, it will happen very often to a person, to dissolve, desiring the fulfillment of a precious human dream, “seek what will keep me satisfied” you can call the dream.
To make a great stand, the, “i wish.” Would it be enough? i, a whole human being whose heart was absolutely beating in the pit of a stomach, a first scream. I’m now a solid conversion of helpless salvation.
Everyone in hell is a poor poet.
How nature takes advantage of my existence of my innocence. I ate the letters and numbers of all languages but still human alchemies, mysticisms and fake perfumes are weak against that frightening calm.
And still, Hell asks for an encore when i stand upon that brimstone stage spewing my moonlit 3’o clock prose.
:: 02.05.22 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 