let us spill liquids. sow offspring. quench hunger. whose?
inhale the fumes that tempt. forget that something dawns outside of
these vaults. break shallow desires. until something reminds you.

la fiesta cuesta.

please a bit more, please. turn on these handles, where the feelings leak, please.
these times when the mass of flesh formed one festering heap.
ohh yes, this is it. you hit it.
when the alleys spoke of murderous joy,
a bit more and we approach that little death.
you had an ambiguous look, tracing the cries of laughter, pain, even fear, perhaps.
yes.
we know what happened

la fiesta cuesta.

where words subside.

los dioses tienen hambre.