blindness in a hundred days
i write you a letter, in a clear hand,
to tell you that
i am no longer willing
to be trapped, in your chains, in your walls
in your endless emptiness
that you fill
with the voices
that you make yoursef hear when you think
that nobody can hear you
i never said that
i will never say that
it's like you've replaced
the water i need
to the whiskey i want
and i willingly offered because
'how painful can loving someone
so unnatainable be?'
jump
from a hundred stories high
for a hundred days
and i bet all the beautiful shapes in the New York sky
all the morbid dreams that kill me
all the times that the sun loved the moon far too much
and let himself die to let her breath every night
that you perish, crumble, break, shatter
on your first jump
you drive cars
you've been on the road
and you've seen the facelesss people
crossing, running and always searching
for something so much more
blinding and when you become one of them
i blind you
every word that escapes your lips
makes me melt in a viscosity
that is far too thick to swallow
but far too diluted to be the blood that runs through your body
the electricity that sparks in your nerves, from your head to your fingertips
i am concrete
the drawl that makes me hang on
to every vowel, syllable, consonant, letter that you force
out of the lips i love too much is tainted with earth and mint and basil
it is flavored with home
it makes you more human than you should be
and i try to escape it all
i tear my eyes out
watching you fall from the hundred floors
for the last time
because you floated and walked off like you were superhuman
it was the hundredth day and i had allowed my spirit, my blood
to be blinded by the cracks of your facade
that is why i end this letter
telling you that
i was the blindness in a hundred days