Let clarify and define

the borders

allow me to punctuate the i.

First of all, accept

the thunder.

Let recognize the lightning

through the night:

It is out of discussion the intolerant need

of a solitary shoulder

where tears may rest.

Words has been my world

and will be.

The fusion of their passion,

the clairvoyant tour describing

the texture of the skin;

the lonely observatory,

the lighthouse where music

redeem his empire:

drums in the middle of the sun,

the flourishing allegro irate

of poetry.

I demand to be here

in full command of my capacity

even though there are clouds

and foggy sidewalks under my foot.

I am here:

Opened skin, incontinent riot.

Byron González