I Cry Myself Alive


I don`t trust my mother. She came into my life without notice. She left without notice.


The poem needs strong hands,
violent betrayals, I think she said.
Good things happen to you.
You have women who wrap up your skin.
You have friends who know your name,I think she said.


I know the indefinite things and I will write from my memory the bibliography of death.

I am a pathetic show and I have the destiny of a seaport.

I cry myself alive and I strongly laugh of myself...