puppy

raw meat growing greedily between bleeding lips
makes her swallow her inflamed tongue
and choke.
her eyelashes paint the air in shades of crimson.
she moans while she's being pushed down.
her stomach becomes one with the rotten floor.
perhaps a nail pierced her left thigh.
pieces of her are spread all over the furniture.
bones frame bits of flash.
a museum of pleasure into a room of torture
needs a first daughter to be built inside its dead walls.
an ancestral need that is.
the collapse into dirty sheets makes her turn into a wounded dog.
Jesus leaves his perfect spot on the wall and comes to me.
he looks a bit drowsy, a bit bored.
perhaps a bit stupid. lights a cigar and nods his head.
''c'mon, there's nothing here.''
we leave the room.
we walk the alley. the smell of lilac makes our silence smile,
but me and Jesus,
we both know there was a girl in that bed.
now you leave your perfect spot from the wall and come to me.
you look a bit drowsy, a bit bored.
perhaps a bit stupid. you light a cigar and nod your head.
your psalms pour out of your mouth.
they lead me far away.
the white field of guilt where my soul lies drowns in black milk
and poisoned ambrosia.
you sing me a lullaby.
I wake up with your marks on my palms.
your last kiss on my forehead was the one of Judas.
the moon throws shades of bitter red over my room.
I see her right next to me. She sits and watches the tall buildings with me.
out there, between bricks and steel, out there are people.
thousand of Jesus and Judas exchanging parts every day.
out there, a few blocks away, there is your breath preaching for yourself.
she is dressed in cinder and wax.
pale and rinsed.
but I can still see the collar of the four-legged hybrid she became.
''How could you let him do this?''
she doesn't want to touch me.
packs her skin and goes into the darkest corner of the room.
I can't see her anymore, but I hear the sound of her tongue licking her wounds.
the sound of her saliva.
''I thought...
he was going to be nice to us.''