Rain falls and splits apart into two glossed eyeballs
Invalid derelict with a mind width of a pea
The 200-watt light bulb glares at this skin
The stained walls, and these pulsating senses
But the Pulque can’t distinguish the exact time
In spring that would rather forward the memories
Into a frosted hibernation

And the sink lunges at me like a wild lynx
Plunging my throat like an oil field
I spew hot acidic poisons that fuel such hatred
Meanwhile, the whirlwinds have just begun
Streams of water pass me by as I dry
In the dusted shadows of my bed sheets
And the moon in my window looms at me
No longer with wild-eyed wonder
But wan fear

Petrified as stone, the numb permeates the blood
As I lay helpless
Ineluctable and motionless, I am no longer myself
My hand reaches out to nothing, but sheer air
With nothing to veil over my heart—just a dream
I have crushed everything and draped it in selfishness
Only I can tear apart two love-swollen eyeballs
And turn them into continual drops of rain