Lick Darkness

That strain of creativity that swarmed inside me
like a beehive under constant attack.
Now has been dulled down by the constraints
of a DEMANDING WORLD.
The routine filled with even more keys and locks
and shelves and books.
Driving back through the polluted streets
of a megapolis, tongues limp,
as it licks darkness.
The love of mystery died on an abandoned canvas
like a lover dumped and poisoned on a bed.
As I lick darkness and join the ratrace.
Fantasies of obliterating convention
die with my enslavement into it´s
predictable and cowardly underbelly.
Licking darkness while my lack of sleep
and inferiority complex make love.