Posthuman Kind

I want you to believe

that I reveal to you your insecurity

senseless your disguise

and none of your masks can hide your face

I want you to see

that you're dying in your own eyes

that these are not real rules

and that the joy of a day is gone with the daylight

I want you to hear

the whine of the wanderer

with a face cut by the years of silence

I want you to remember

the blind man,

for you've been seeing with his eyes

and the mute man,

that still performs his speech to the deaf crowd gathered

and all of them listening with hypnotic curiosity

I do not believe

in your truth

can't see you, while you standing right before me

can't hear you , while you're talking to me

but I'm afraid I remember you

and that is the only thing that I regret