Misanthropy

my lungs are filled with dust and asphalt
with relics and the reek of human bones
our flesh smells like another one's flesh
and a slimy liquid drips
on the skin that hides traps behind it

some are afraid to take off their raiments
that cover their purity and the animal body
which keep them prisoners
I'm afraid to take off, not my raiments,
but my body which kept me
in a carnal fortress
being afraid of curiosity and filth

the stench of their soul
smothers me and I feel so much more
like it enters in my body
to devour my mature lung

I open the windows of my treasure
to see the green of the sky
and the blue of the trees
through glasses of steel that enslave me
in the cellar of my spirit

then I close my windows
because I have seen enough of the lands
that give me a bitter taste
and a wretched impression with every day passed:
humans are walking dead on their feet
smiling cheerfully in shiny illusions