The walls of our cemetery

Look at the city being spread out in right and linear walls. . Where shelter dark beings behind. Observing by the windows the slow manufacturing of the mystery. Of an oppressive silence on the city falling down. With the deserted pavements. In the precarious calm. Of a choking absence. Go the bitter heart of a being of misery. Wandering on the paving stones recovering fossilize them past. In search of tastes and colors tinted of memories. Honey of this completed time where the bees flew. On the flowers of our orchard without fruits to be gathered today. Let the city be spread out in right and linear walls. Country of right and proud phantoms. That never nobody sees. Behind the opened out unhappiness of gray and cold walls. I think then of you. Running through wood. Happiness at the end of the fingers. It was, a long time ago. When we were children. Saved projection of the stone monster. With the totalitarian expansion. Who little by little factory walls of our cemetery. Where we spend the whole years. Without another horizon that a city which goes, conquering and proud to extend its arteries