Your Eyes Poem by Bera Tremoz

breathing with unleashed
butane inside a firy pit
of a dark cold slumber,
with smiles red and pulpy
you like to kiss people,
kiss kiss kiss,
letting your hands
grab those asses
and those breasts,
your hair falling down
skyscraping waterfalls
while you hug with the might of
a hundred buffaloes
or unicorns,
whichever sounds more vulgarly
romantic,
I even visited your room,
the sharp swords faking
dull imitations
and
tigers jumping out of
nowhere onto
nowhere
and
Death
hanging on your ceiling,
smiling back at you
every morning you wake up
to burn down the rest
of Humanity
with eyes of cast out
angels.