Poetry

I am writing off all the symbols, 
will not wait for the judgement 
and cross the boundaries. 
 
I am not you, 
I am not him, 
a blemished soul 
it wants to be set free. 
 
Conjugating fever at large 
colliding, colliding with guts of needles. 
 
Tasting ambrosia of pain, 
oedipus asking for another name. 
 
I am offloading the ancient guilt 
give me some time. 
 
I do not want any clouds to follow me, 
my words are scented with streaks of blood 
and shine when only the cinders arrive.