The Comfort Zone

Careless
Reckless obscenities that dress themselves with glittering clothes
Poison in bottles of licquor, of sweet vanilla, coconut and pineapple
The teeth that bites softest, that makes you ask for another piece
to be ripped from your neck, from your shoulders

The deadly comfort zone
where dreams die under motionless hammers
where people grow downwards
like trees
like coffins that explore the soil.

The wildfires are chanting
After the brief rain the air is scented with the smell of wet earth, wet stones,
water filtrating through the nerves of the land
irrigating its veins, again

Death most be such a delightful peace...beacuse no dead has ever came out from it, from that eternal comfort zone


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