In you, was written the fatal screen

The pearls of blood roll on the ground. With one in the unslung ball of an orchestra without partition. Scattering like the insane ones. Dancing the saraband of our abandonment. Eaten by your demons. Hung at the end of a cord tended to hang to you. Without pity at the moment to complete you after you to have devoured. You could not understand. In you, the evil slept. Insidious of the animal coiling itself in the contaminated internal organs of your insanity. In you, was written the fatal screen. Of a rupture poisoning our connection. Absorbed in the depths of an insipid torpor. Anaesthetized by the venom of your malignant. Papering your thought of their dreams unfinished, impossible to consume. Drawing aside us one of the other to us to quarter. A tear with the taste of rupture. Breaking the symbols of our culture. Ridge of complicity, relativity on standby of a perfect world. Idea given birth to in the one night dreams of summer. Passed to dream, to embrace themselves. Evaporating in the heat wave your to rough-hew where your madness wished that you burn yourself. You succumbed to the facility. Temptation. Of an easy smile in one moment of desire. Forgetting cement of our relation. You lost yourself. Setting with naked. Crying a completed past. In the middle of a crowd of devils to the forked languages. Scandalmonger on your untimely sensitivity. Why will I save you? By pity. Of you? Of me? That would not have any direction. I think it.  In you, the evil slept. Insidious of the animal coiling itself in the contaminated internal organs of your insanity. In you, was written the fatal screen. Of our history that in future the person will not mention, will not listen. Too Much pathetic, if evil. Hung at the end of a cord, thrown in the false commune of forgotten feelings. Fissure leaving this insidious trace to the taste of flaring. Just good to be burned in the ashtray of what was the idea of a couple which liked.