if headaches had tools
like paint brushes
Guernica would be strewn
bittersweetly, after the effect
from the ends of the scrolls of my mind
i have been her kind
to let the delusion unwind
and plant feet on the street
to later visit and eat like sheets of
backlava sweets
dear this one is on me
these old bones sigh
and take a seat on the bench bus stop
meet me or do not entreat me
just greet me with dignity
Guernica was war
i swore to be peaceful
so i
blow bubbles of trouble
ghosts and horses out from these courses
of memory
bittersweet, after the effect
hindsight, clarity in the
street light
return home
eat sweetly and go anyway but meekly
in this life
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