Inside my lungs, 

he paves a road with his screams,

in which he loiters, 

kicking the boxes he encounters.

*

One night

he made a painting of his mother:

a river running with her milk, 

and a golden basin 

where he hid from darkness.

He then unclasped his fingers,

and went to sleep in the eyes

of the painting.

*

The only friend he ever made

was a small locust

his mother needed to cook

one day.

*

He read Baudelaire

as the neighborhood's residents

looked him up and down

and kept their daughters

behind closed doors.

*

He started eating words

for dinner

since he became a poet.

*

To the most recent war,

he contributed nothing.

He found it sufficient to shake hands

with his gun, sick

to his stomach.

*

Finally,

he painted a tear

over what has become of mankind.