Identity

Along the angler- track

I herded the river bank

wishing to rinse my sins sincerely.

I looked into the delphinian blue

stonefully pale I  slapped mud face to face

make the floor notice

but what I saw was ten centavo shingles

curdling in clusters oozing with  mulch

spitted saliva  to my dismay

when it stretched  the fishes yawned

and volleyed its spit into my eye.

The Real Me

putrefying breath inhaled

morning air exhaled

it was a science

i could call a cycle

i am into this

it needs to be rolled on one cheek

and sucked in the other

an orgastic body

i am born with

together with the wind

we fly like clean clothes

swinging on their line

my moisted lips

parted to be made dry

i conquered the censure

as i drove deeper

into the white freeway

i  became red

as i saw an officer

swearing the truth