wakes up swimming in sweat, stares out the window, to
see the moon die.
his soul, slowly, decaying in bed.
happy murder tales, and a can full of sinners.
runs into a room through a broken door, imagined.
sees his dead body on the floor, and a cross burns on
his forehead.
seeing his heart turn to ashes.
running into psychotic memories, the preacher is still
talking, but his ears
are falling down to the floor. hears a knock at
the door.
closed eyes and dry lips, dreams aren’t safe.
keeps on running through a desert, who will
save him in the dark?
the pope in south america laughing while
citizens peek through a fence?
murder victims screaming loud, can hear them
burning in the air.
bloody lovers kissing mud. dancing killers
singing psalms.
praying rapists in the church, heartbeat is so
his eyes are leading him.
feels it all still decaying, and who will help him
swimming around tombstones, little laughing
children sleeping in coffins.
mother mary, kissing the pope, making love to her god
in an empty sky,
and the monk is burning snow, lost in his naked
the pope picks up his rifle and shoots the buddhist
opens his eyes and still is blind, travels west.
journey past into her eyes to see the blue full pupil,
filled with broken
pieces of a picture.
lifeless ashtrays remember stories of a smoker
that they’ve killed.
cancer spreads all over.
his eyes are lying. his eyes are lying.
a dream within a dream is too gorgeous, then, why
he’s rolling on the ground, sees a man come from the
realizes god must be murdered. spits some blood for
god to see.
the man glows floating from light, follow the light!
god starts to laugh until the laugh gets louder and
louder and harsher and harsher
with the intensity of murder.
“no salvation! no forgiveness for you son!” speaks a
realizes this man cannot be god because god is
sleeping, so then this must be a nightmare
traveling through.
the passenger of this dream picks up a book with a
bunch of dirty words, and throws it
at the holy spirit.
killing the holy spirit,
“eat your bible holy bastard!”
screams under the new moon.
now again he’s in his room, “save yourself!” is written
with blood on the walls.


stolen treasures.

stolen treasures.

ancient temple, burning city,
heart of tenochtitlan
mutilated and raped into mexico city.

quatemoc says, “we face rainy weather,”
as screams fill the air while his feet burn, and ashes
float through empty heaven.

men in guns and suits of armor riding beasts that travel fast.
cortez, the leader steals the riches for his mistress.

the young warrior wonders,
“father, where do we go now?”
father responds, “follow the sun west,”

“people of the sun have hope until the sun is gone.”
but now, nighttime comes, sun has disappeared,

moans and screams resonate.
sound of spanish leather whipping against the once strong warrior.

the clouds no longer allow view of the sun.

so awake.

aztec blood robbed of its dignity and pride. european blood lost all power.

mestizo blood’s been dying. and so,
now swim in pool of silence with no escape but drowning

that when i look in the mirror, see
an ancient figure, which makes me, feel so sad with its
bleeding wounds and lost ways.

and in the end this empty dance

for rain turns into pain, genocide, mass suicide, more priests-

assimilated hopes and dreams.