(no subject)

[porfirio_diez]

on the second of may
"the sleep of reason produces monsters."
mannequins crowd the streets.
they are told
"if you remain in one place for long enough,
something interesting is bound to happen."
it is more than this painting.
it is more than this battle.
the one you thoroughly doused in red.
the sculpture
you made from the iron in your blood.
it's contaminated
by the violet pouring through your head.
it's the new shit that you worship
the new sanctuary you visit
because of this book you read.



but it is what led me to you.
the lines are what created this path.
we are just two actors in this play.
we do what we are told.
we are just lying to hopefully find ourselves one day.
but maybe all the lies will help us find each other.
the winter's wind will determine our fate.
i can smell the hope in your warm blood as it runs
down from your nose to the white tile.
i can feel the fear as you fall.
but you fell too hard
and now it's gone.
it's an ending you can't accept.

they say that everything has to die sometime,
but you had a unique way
of always coming back.