A little bit of weird one´s poetry: "poesía bizarra"

Now a little bit of weird poetry, Weirdtry?
You must take into account that the original was written in Spanish, so a little bit is lost in translation (as usual). However the poem itself has a store of its own that has been told in others blogs. It was conceived for me and my own circumstances, however an acquaintance of mine (psychologe) who usually works with women who have suffered domestic violence resolved to use it in her therapies –where it proved really useful. Needless to say, that if true, I have never written a word as useful as that in my whole life.
So there it goes:

UNTITLED
I´m sick and tired of feeling a scythe against my tongue
coming from you, shovelfuls of earth
covered with blood
words of nazi violence
trying to cut my sleen off
like pus
an eczema full of tissue
to be turned apart with nails and blood
sewed, sawn, darned and fray
After unsewing my soul each time you tear me,
from you I have learned how to live in shreds or tatters.
Look into my eyes, you bastard, n´ try to fuck me up now
Haven´t you done so each time you´ve bitten me
the sperm?
You must feel it deep incide, right now
N´if you think I´m gonna love you now you´re quite on the wrong track on your kneels, of your via crucis, still,
exquisite steps remain
Betrayed dream, is that the one you gave me
seconds living liquor, which, breaking up, freezes me
I sacrifice this poem, on your palms it may ruin
may its ashes be, water in your shower,
spring or fountain of your existence
gloomy
empty