Let me drink my misery,
observing this obscene poetic moment
of pure insanity here.
i yearn for words insulting
our oppression, our stupidity
and blindness:
we will succumb to another drama,
to more one tragedy. to the numbers.
yes, we will.
and i can't ignore the nihilism beneath
our hearts.
if i could renounce,
i'd be where the ends meet.
we are too sacred
to be here worshipping so little.
but
i can only reach transcendence
when my flesh is more intense,
when the words silence me:
poetry is my religion,
my nationality,
my country.
i know i will die
squeezed between the past
and the present
and none of them
can justify
the sovereignty of our lives
because we believed,
because we still believe.
