reddened mud – Poetry by Gabriela M. — Vita Brevis Press

nudes, born inside a gallery of souls
the night hangs on an iron wall
I am the limits of my pain
the loneliness of those who do not fit
inside the desert’s palms
I see the orange eye of god
I cannot comprehend the vivid dream
I fight some ghosts who look for my own blood
the light now rises from a lonely tomb
I cry
like in a concentration camp
suicidal moons
extinguished flowers
reddened mud

Via:
reddened mud – Poetry by Gabriela M. — Vita Brevis Press