PORTRAITS

Home. What is
home anyway

my legs
my hip and my penis
my ass there where I shit and wipe off

It s getting dark here
and my eyes can never accostume to this darkness
to my kitchen infested with roaches and sadness
plates of food rottening under the dripping water key
plik... plik... plik... 
like a small heart beating
made of some ancient water wisdom I cant grasp to
comprehend

and the night fell this evening
like a dead man's kiss

I have taken my shoes off
in her memory
I have smoked sixty cigarettes
and watched the tourists get trapped in their
one and only play
gringa blondie with a big ass and eyes like the sky
taking pictures of an old forgotten mental asylum
and I can feel my feet weeping
we cant take it anymore... lie down, its all over

and I know there are mountains that know my name
and I know theres a woman out there
waiting for my lies
my comforting
my fists and my teeth
I know theres a way there but I cant see it now
I'm joyfully taking pictures of the dead too

mostly selfies.