a realist

élan vital poetry

I found
the shadow
carpeted with
ache

I couldn’t
leave the
island of my
skin

unable
to break and free
as a sky without
zenith, I sunk
into a low and
blue tear

then morning hung
as the erotic
fluvial voice

this mouth is a gash
that never heals
thrusting verbs as blood
in the bloating thought

I look down
to find my shape
covered in otherness

I was there
alloyed WITH
the world

like
the élan and heart
together

in immeasurable desire.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Existential Poetry

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