Red blood

Red blood.  At the evening of a setting sun. A salted taste. Oozing. On the reliefs of the world. Staining. A cemetery of cross. With the rusted bodies. Running on the language. Savor. Responsible for intoxication. Who pitches. Dripping. At the end of all the fears. Red blood. On hands. Stuck on the face. Not to see more. The soiled face. Of a color transfering with the black. Putrefying. The virginity of the angel. Its shade stretching itself over the evening of a watery world. With the colors red blood. In silence. Of a cemetery. Body with the crosses rusted. Loneliness. Heavy. Pressing. On the piano of time. Striking bitter notes. With the stammering melancholy. Crying of the tears of blood. Clouds being erased. Under the push of a wind. Kneeling. With the feet of the angel. Fragile. Contracted wings. Sensitive. The buckled face. Red blood. On hands. Stuck on the face. Not to see more. The soiled face. To have fought too much. Asphyxiated. To be able to breathe. Just abandoned. Lengthened. On the ground. Arms in cross. The tortured face. By this salted taste. In the mouth. Red blood. Savor. Responsible for intoxication. Who pitches. Dripping. At the end of all the fears. Until this hour. Where the angel will rise. Swallowing. The weight of its torments. Going in poverty. In the setting sun. Being erased. Imperceptibly. The red body blood.