Your Eyes

your vision seems to be in a temporary tango with the sun
at the cost of my rigid and repeated reflection
that appears to you as reality-
the reality that took the role of your dreams
interrupted your inconsistent nights
avoided your atoms,
and let your vision's mirror
mask the misanthropic moral
that abandoned you at the cynical city
of broken skulls and
empty waltzes.
still you hid behind the metaphors-
your burning shadow is your costume and
seductive susurrus.
what you see is the shield that
succumbs to the fact that
beauty massacres the moon.
your darkness desires to deny
the chains tightening and twisting--
tainting your tattered tears and...
towering tourniquets
it won't stop it won't stop it won't stop
until you trust.
until the tango of your vision slips away with the sun.
until my rigid reflection cracks open and falls-
a thousand pieces of honesty.
until your dreams go back to dreams
and reality goes back to reality.
don't tell me what beauty is.
for now, all you can do
is look at me
and shoot
with your bullet eyes.