Roses that crumble

The ghost of my youth handed me brambles
I recognized the rose that I had picked for you;
Time crumbles
I returned to my childhood room,
The evening was falling
A nightingale dissolved in the silence,
The kitchen was smoking
Are there still angels to mock the bitter Gods?
Give me your hand my love,
I sucked the dregs of the earth in my golden abodes
I flew with my red cape over death itself,
I didn’t recognize your face,
I gave up my deck of cards myself
See — the sun penetrates in our undone beds
In the cool morning I caressed your smooth hands
I grasped a moment,
It slipped because of my greed
The sun reverberated in my city,
Stars spinned at full speed
It is a deluge of light,
With demons that sheds fire;
Poetry drank all my blood,
Death welcomes my winnowed attire
The hall is deserted,
The patients are the ghosts,
The church’s chime
Is heard — my love, kneel with me
Before the remains of time!
Let us become children again,
Dazzled by the clarity of the landscape;
I stabbed the night,
I became God’s favorite scapegoat
The stars bled blue words
From the wisps of remorse in this world
I sat on the bench,
Abandoned to your terse word
The hospital closes its sliding doors,
I run to you in vain
Wait for me another hundred days in this picture,
I’ll take you out of the frame!

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