"Artist" (poem)
Like silhouettes draw poems
on skin that swallows the blackness of the ink.
Slave to the profanity room
where the sorrows are endless.
My body, white stone sculpture
and pink meat inside;
pink sand meat falling
as the sand inside a clock.
I am an artist who must always portray you.
The blue sky does not retain the cerulean charms,
But it does welcomes the obsidian.
The twilight flows in my veins
its name reminds of death.
In my eyes, you sow the most human anxiety.
Not a good example of my job for this my new return here on Steemit. A lot of things has changed, like the notifications button, and the communities option, wich I dont know what it means. But I guess that I can say that I am back.
Spanish version of this poem: https://steemit.com/spanish/@seifiro/trampa-poema