THE TORTURER

The torturer is sometimes good at innuendos
C Bukowsky


The weather is fine but there are wrinkles in the air
I looked at these photographs and my memory averts them
There are so many painful screams in the back of my head
That stops me from seeking the picture clear

The weather changes and suddenly it’s murkily
The elements are four and no one can decipher them
Words that comes out in a torrent of fire
Words that cannot connect unless your self is in them

There was always a smile at the end of the picture?
Why I cannot see anything but only the backgrounds?
When was this taken, what were you doing?

Thousand of squares complete my vocabulary
Empty spaces are filled with the taste of metal
Your heart will be stronger you may even take rejections
You will never suffer of a weak heart condition

You may be able to read between the lines
You will see what is hidden from others
Sometimes at least sometimes you may need
Only a hand to hold you together

Miles and miles apart
Stars gazing in the south sea
Lights that comes and goes by
Only the secret eye will see them pass.