This maya music makes me wish for a woman.
I close the window on my pain, pray the water will not cover me.
I'm chimney-dancing, thrusts at the moon.
Confetti of spent tears in the air.
Throat of solitude which swallows error for pearls.
Incense of cold chiles that huffs in the doggy pen.
Cliffs' side decorated by the cranes and sprays of innocence paid.
The helpless rage of poverty a workshop of claws.
Sink's blade that only sings to your terror, trash-dampened escape.
Sun for days under the flank of the continent,
breathing root-broken cacophony of worms.