We are were the forgotten wait

I can dismiss the pain in my palms
because true agony has no terms of reference
and mine has not become a disease yet
The promptitude life wears on its forehead
made me a building of concrete with ingrown thorns

I like to watch my feet bathed in this sticky pearly sap
It helps me forget for a while that
we are were the forgotten wait
with their backbones curved inside their bodies
crowding their organs, slowing down life’s pulse

Outside our skin there’s not enough space either
at least there is not enough room for the both of us
In this forest of constantly moving contours
where the battle for becoming something else never ceases
we are the misfits, hardly blinking
erect structures, staring into the void

(13.07.2013)