Poetry

Cell to cell a trapped apocalypse moves 
breaking the taboo, deconstructing 
the secret of body in chains 
 
The myth explodes, offends the knowledge. 
I know that I do not know myself. 
 
Lacerating, ravishing the soil 
the roots come out of air 
to find the imprint of fruits. 
 
I concede, I stop at the door of pain. 
Hold me, when I tremble with stage fright. 
My turn has come to speak the truth. 
 
I have not made up my mind 
to consume the light. 
Garden takes a nap in the dark. 
The boldness will face the dream 
in length of time.