Monday, August 23, 2010


We cry.
Before we are born,
Before we emerge from insipid security,
And open up our throats to the sweet dryness of air,
Membranes crackling and eyes red,
Death molests our bodies.
We cry.
As we grow inside,
We can only die,
Pointlessly, a dull knife
Brutally awakens.
And, as we are born,
We can only cry.


  1. Hmm... a pretty frequented concept. What do you think of this though Lorenzo? Do you personally life as a paradoxical equivalent to death? May be life is just like that---a revolving circle that cancels each other out with its incessant turning. I dunno, I have yet to come to terms with that thought.

  2. this is in itself is a really shocking concept. i remember sitting in biology class and the teacher mentioned this (talking about the cell cycle of course). i think life is in a way equivalent to death but they are different. it doesn't so much cancel each other out, as add to it, i think. maybe like ascending a mountain, cycling around the circumference but all the time going up?