I took the night

I took the night

I took a gloomy night, an icy place to the bottom

of the moon’s flare.

The wind lashes cheek and at eyes,

and so I lay beneath it and gazed the moonlight.

I wondered if something surrounds me,

but yet I took the night with my loneliness

and I wondered how the hush seemed

to be afton but yet I took the night with my tough

consciousness. I heard music and it uttered stale reverie,

and yet I took the night with a

reminisce. I am a captive a captive of my heart’s fear,

of my fancy night, of a cold wind

and of a sweet song. On raise whisphered tender,

on raise stars whisphered softly and yet

i took the night boldly and camly. There is a wonder

of a song to the flow of wind and

there is a wonder of the evening to the flow of sweet smile.

I took the night a simple and

noble but yet i took the night with an obscene consciousness,

and thereof i had to. Once, i

trangressed the night, trangressing the shadow of a doom.

There he is a tyrant, a tyrant is

me. Once, i took the night and a night turned to a harsh despair.

No more nightmare, daymare, aroint thee, aroint thee.

-Wilfredo Bolbes

A thorn in my heart

There is a thorn in my heart

I humbly bow to thy womb and crawls unto my body, the coldness.
There's an embrace of tears in my eyes, and there's an annoying sound.
I don't know who the night is.

I have waited the long miles walking, i have waited till sweat drops.
I have waited with the pain; the thorn nor spine in my heart.
Not i decieve myself, not i decieve my caress of affection.

Cleaved to the moon, such eyes of an innocent.
Cleaved to the dessert, such feet to the muddy.
I divulge my sobriety unto you; my devotion unto you.

I am a bee, to my finest beloved.
I am a flower, waiting to be picked.
I am a mime, seeking for attention.

She that matters the most will not remember me.
She that i prayed will not stay beside me.
I yell to the crowd what i felt, for what i feel.

I have seen no drops of rain, nor stream of the sea.
I have felt no air of the breeze, nor lash to the seashore.
Perhaps i'm all alone though thirst, perhaps i'm lonely though my warmness seems none to her.

-Wilfredo Bolbes