Paper Thin

A young man walks
the path in a slanted way
His broken body folds
into a near collapse.

A body trembles
in fragmented beats
when paper-thin
slices of emotions
wash over her

A horse’s mane must be reigned in
with tight braids that won’t unravel.

Mami tried to save me
from my creative life
only to find a reply,
written in verse, in
the palms of her hands.

It’s a Portishead kind of moment
a low throbbing bass line
with a high thin voice singing
contrast to shelve the freeze-dried mind.