Transparency

Our stories are doubtful
Of themselves
Mine of transparencies
Yours of your self

Transparency is transitive
Takes A hand it in to B

No change in the material self
In the process of handing
My dated lips
In to your self

The self searches itself
The transparency does not change
As the self of the transparency
Is to transit
With no excess
Or no lack

Passion thought that the transparency
Would reflect its mirror image

Face to face

But
Face goes to the other edge

Passion has no patience
For a transiting face

It wants a Boomerang to kill itself
A fire burning inside

No patience for energy losses
On the crystal rocky roads of transitivity

While

A broken bottle on a beach of solitude
Fairly transmits its sun burns
To a hell of dried woods

In an island where a block
Is decorated
On the path of green inhalations

Which will sooner or later
Burn its transparency
To an anxious self