The crosses have other laws

There are these drops of acid rain. Streaming on the one evening old stones avid. Corbels cawing the tended nozzle. Loans to tear the naked heart. Tears falling thick. There is the low sky. Gray, stretching itself tired. Until loss of sight. Also far falls asleep the night. This color sinks that you flee. Stronger than you believed it. Haunting the recesses of your nightmares. Wallowed in the wild sewers. Of a memory without hope. There are these tombs which equip the cemetery. Of a life reduced in dust. The green grass, dark walls. Surrounding the ball of the shades. Where ventures what remains of you. I want to believe it. There remains to me this faith. To find you in the mirror. To play to be filled with wonder. To think that it is the truth. Without gripping itself. Nor to be wounded with the barbed wires of the past. There is silence. Who weighs heavy oppressive. Putting rhythm into the slow steps of a dance. Macabre where the skeletons draw the star. In this noise which makes dizzy me. I cannot. I do not want. To imagine that the other side. Wall there are other sentences. This immense dream. That time does not have end. That the crosses have other laws. Pushing walls behind. By giving the pace. To be itself buried with the infirmity. To attract these drops of acid rain. Streaming on the one evening old stones avid. Corbels cawing the tended nozzle. Loans to tear the naked heart. Tears falling thick. I think of you. I say myself times. That music of time. Repeats itself indefinitely. Being completed by a cross. Indefatigably. Without name. Erased by erosion. Just end of the fingers. Is read on the stone a trace of formerly. There is the low sky. Gray, stretching itself tired. Until loss of sight. Also far falls asleep the night. This color sinks which colours insomnia. Until the moment when the eyes are closed. That all returns. Putting an end to You. With this eternal absence. Holds. Like a suffering.