Thursday, December 14, 2006

My blood is not ecstasy

My blood is not ecstasy, everywhere I have been is a transfusion

Once upon a time, I drove thru the buildings of cells that would may one day

Be the end of me

But I care not for me, I was the disease that is lost, the hopeless, that wake up and see the day as another distasteful moment

My hands dirty , my torn clothes with the smell of filth

I was a baby once, once my mother smiled at me, I remember her face

I carry the sign of the times, “ Veteran of the past, help me”

As the world gets smaller and I lose the friendships I once had

I see my sisters and my brothers of the world lose faith

Today I shared a cigarette with a man that smelled like shit

He had no shoes, only socks on his feet, I doubt he even knew his name or

What city or country his tireless feet walked upon

I watched him look at the dirty cement for cigarette butts, when I decided “fuck, I get this man a pack of cigs and a lighter”

I was no angel as I said “here brother!” He had not a clue what I was saying, he just only looked for the cigarette butts in the gutter!

My province is hell; I still have hope for us

by Chavela Molina


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