Poetry

Human shell with a bloody pearl

Discover me if you want to taste a lifeless soul.
I challenge you, but I don’t care if you will try.
Does that make sense?
And if not, I don’t care about your opinion.
I’m confined to the context in which
you want to frame me persistently as if I were
only sketches without any significant lines.
I’m cruel, I bite and eat,
I take away what’s not mine, but I don’t fake anything.
At least I don’t know how, although they taught me.
You want to be like those who will tame me
and show me that famous world in which
love saves and changes people for the better…
Don’t you see that I’m already sick?
But come on, I challenge you to open mine
bones and fill the holes with your deficiencies.
You see, I am a rare and priceless shell,
but my pearls are bloody and sticky.
There are remains of indelible marks on the fingers
of those who also wanted to take them
and try to replace them with something exceptional.
A brutal joke is on them.
The paradox of my anomalies and
the controversy of my mindless mind
are in contradiction to everything you will find.
But I’ll let you touch this old soul for a moment.
Your fingers will be numb, without anesthesia.
You will become deaf when you hear the immorality in me,
screaming to swallow you.
You will go blind before my apathy
on each of your gestures.
I don’t know about anything interpersonal,
I don’t know about the impression of a man
who only wants to love.
I don’t even know how the ocean
in me is playing with the hearts of people diving into it.
But I swallow every one of them.
I chew them up and enjoy in decompensation.
And it feeds me and fulfills me.
Nothing more, nothing less.
But I challenge you.
I’m naked, utterly.
Never in the way that others see.
If you think the body is what you need
to touch to reach this damaged soul,
I give myself to you, try it.
I’ve never been ashamed of something superficial.
But I like how I look
when I’m so empty but full.
Hologram, in black and white.
The meaning is transmitted as they see it.
But you can’t see me as the broken plate
that’s dirty in all the right places.
For you, I am music that hypnotizes,
but you can’t wake up.
And I don’t care about that. Not really.
I shrug my shoulders and I tell you that
I’m just another forgotten shell at the bottom of the sand
from the remains of the flesh of those who tried to sell my pearl.
You’ll have to try, you have no choice, do you?
Go deeper, I expect your weakness.
Meet me and stay in my womb,
as another heart on the menu.
Until you become part of my amnesia.

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