The thought of you

My thoughts are slender steel bars. A cage that surrounds me head.

I scream you in my nightmares. I see your transparent body sticking to mine. And yet, my communication is a one-way.
The phone is hanging in my fear of the other. The tone buzzes and stings me to the ear.

I'm hanging up. I'm hanging on.

But to who?


My brain is a minefield. I threathen to burst at each souvenir. I'm antipersonnel.


You won't open me again in order to fill me of yourself.

You take your coffee black. You love horror movies. You see Bianca at one pm everyday.  You can make your neck crack whenever you want it to. Your hands are large and rough on my hips.


I flee and eject your souvenirs in an ink blot.


I am the one who'll grow up. I am the one who'll choke on her tongue. I am the dream which won't fade in the daylight. I am the man who'll burn his liberty. I am the return of a lost identity.
No, this is wrong.

I've had too much delved the souvenirs. This thought of you pulsates with a deep red in my hands full of soil. Luminous sphere that I approach of my eyes. It expels the darkness of my features and I'm glowing. Its power bleaches my face until it erases it.
Then.

Your thought blows up.