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?'



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

This poem is about: 
Our world


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