Cactus

Sunlight torments me inside
But nurtures cells and painful thoughts.
It also gives me light for reading.

Breathing in the pleasure from tall glasses
breathing out ghostly awes to the void.

I do not have to answer anything.
Have been a slave of words and letters, sentences
and punctuation, human sighs and looks
since I was a tiny girl.
Not anymore. I am not your slave.
I am not a kind person.
Do not count on me, do not speak to me, I will break your heart
or at least make you wait and never respond.

Birds, fish, clouds, earth... death.
I catch them with my sweaty hands
of a desperate minstrel trying to impress
and square pieces of metal, triangles, rust, sand
and broken glasses flow out of my unfortunate hands.
I wake up at noon and the hateful sun laughs at me.

I am building a wall, symmetrical, as the golden ratio.
You cannot hurt my wings, and inside
the liquor of pure delight
that no one can sip.
Neither can I.