tired pixels #3

The lights flickered with the color of generations When it snowed, everyone froze for a moment
Goodbye forever, Saturday said to Friday The lights went out, the snow melted, people went hunting Where under the bridge by the surface of the waters Merged all into a violent round dance Under the mud of the spray, hiding up the head Blown away by the wind, I walked home across the bridge Holding on to the handrails I saw in the distance The light of the stained-glass windows floated along the river At the entrance on the steps of the temple A panorama flowed over the slabs of life Inside where the tomb was Stood parishioners covering their faces Knocks of Anvils of poured from the walls And only the one who was passed out did not groan Under the dark vault of candles rotation Contraction opened up the riot of flesh And in the corners teeth sparked bleeding poison There where is from the pipes of the organa smell sharp
Crimson cloth hangs on a broken fresco Smoke blurs the outlines of bodies The order of strength begins to weight Breaking the chains of the pulse from the heart I left the temple holding the door I was walking for a moment now with snow And generations light has spread to me like escape