What have you to say
That hasn’t yet
Been said before
By perforated brains
In the present past?
There is will always be too much
Left unsaid
About the trickle of
Frost, spreading
Against the mortal core.
To be human is to be
Infected with indifference
As we drift across the universe,
Traveling backwards, into the future,
Via strings of venomous temperament.
The question is the answer
To any and all of
Your persistent doubts,
Marinated in the light of
That swelling Valley of the Infinite Night.
FLAVIO HUITRON 