In the world,
Full of beloved and wretched experiences,
I am an angel.
Who does not feel efflorescence,
To be poisoned with sin.
All I see in Heaven is my yearning for intimacy,
Goosebumps upon another’s flesh,
An embrace to camouflage me.
Then there is purity, my oldest enemy.
To all on the outside, the cage is a cocoon,
Though as dulcet is the color white, I am still enclosed in it.
And cannot breathe within
These robes of naiveté.
This is the land of the torturers,
Those famous monsters,
Who afford sumptious deaths,
This is the land of the heroes,
Those beloved conquerers,
Who die in the arms of the Earth,
Where are all the angels? With their burdensome crystal gowns?
They have moulted.
They have ripened.
When you say
It seems like you have everything
It provokes a sour smile,
A large, suffocating thought:
My inspired urge to correct you.
I’ll tell you about my sea of churning responsibilities,
And I will be human again.
The end of the months in limbo,
My voice no longer lurching
Towards the precipice.