I´m too lyrically impoverished
and selfloathingly discouraged
to even make myself heard

I rather flee into disorientation
than face my situation
as it is

I´m a runner -indeed- yet in need
of platforms under my feet
Seeking illusionary grips
to climb whatever illusionary
ladder there is

So I´m the blinded climber
haunt and taunt by imaginary
hyena laughters from your throats
to my heels

I try listening to my own conditioning
yet I´m still the target
of my selfseeking missils and
I can´t blame surroundings
anymore