Guitars
We’re a bunch of rickety guitars
when the wind passes through us
it awakens verses, strange sounds
on the chords that hang like anchors
bunch of unbelievable antennae
we rise into the chaos like fingers
the eternity echoes on our top
and fast they tumble broken
alike flowing emotions
with no hope of getting together
nature entangled with our nerves
our bodies and memory hurt
everything pushes us away
and poetry the refuge we despise
Libros Libertad 