Friday, April 25, 2008

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal


Pick your poison.
The buffet line
is open.

Let your eyes go blind
with desire,
make mad the mind.

Death by sugar.
Death by salt.
Death by everything
your eyes see
and want.

A craving for booze,
hard drugs, and
loose women.

Let your eyes go blind
with desire,
make mad the mind.

Death by alcohol.
Death by coke or meth.
Death by sexual disease.
Your eyes see
and lust.


I represent
the human race.
If that's not
enough pressure,
give me my madness
and you keep the cure.

I represent
what is real and
what evil
entities I
get my commands from.
I cannot be good.

Let the world have
its heroes.
I'll be the
wildcard, who needs
to be saved or locked
up for the good of

the human race
I represent.
I'll succumb
to the pressure
because my madness
cannot be contained.


I hear voices from time to time
telling me to be careful.
I feel like I am being followed
by no one in particular.
If the doctor set me free,
I have no friends or family to see.
I get a little sad sometimes.
In the streets strangers appear
to me like old, lost friends.
I call out their names, but
they ignore me and keep walking.
These tattoos bother me. I
have one of my old lady’s face on
my chest, but we have gone our
separate ways. Since the divorce
I can’t stay out of psych wards.
The tattoo of my dead mother
on my left arm makes me sad.
I hear her voice sometimes
telling me to be careful, son.
I can’t contain my grief. All I want is
for my madness and sadness to end.

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