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Mythology of the night

By espacioreal | elespacioreal | 30 Apr 2021

who is leaving leaves a game
and so he never ends up leaving,
leaves in each chair the possibility of a body
the probable or improbable ghostly appearance of his effigy;
I did not want to write empty because it is not that
when a body is not there it is not that it is not
there, where it was, it will be forever - it is not always
temporal but spatial - the brigade of atoms reorganizing the
air is not empty: it is the lust of an absence that burns the eye,
because the eye sees effortlessly what the whole being does not perceive:
who is leaving leaves a game
and so he never finishes leaving;
his shadow is no longer a shadow but a dark goat that groans
and he calls cruel love from every corner of the precipice that is a house,
crossroads fury, mirrors of anger and rage, I wish it were empty:
It is waiting, it is hope, who leaves an irascible spear where
are burned, where they await, the casual hands, the rites
causal, the mouth that weighs heavily on the face as if it were swollen with
dead kisses, whoever leaves never leaves,
ceremonious stalls where a foreseeable and alien moon looms,
the mythology of the night strikes the salty lung of sleep:
in there the hole is not empty a drunken god filing his nails
who leaves leaves a game,
and so he never ends up leaving.

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A veces leo.

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