Mythological Cold Towers

Of Inexistency

Mythological Cold Towers


To suffer in real dreams 
Setting up an insensatible ocular sensibility 
The bruises disperses on an obscure mantle 
Morbid figures close my frustration 

I exalt the suffering 
I carfy myself to the obscene fantasy 
Formed by the reticule immersed in blood 

Absorbs the lethargy which exceeds inside 
The transcedency of life turns complex 

Turned to the worshipness in the scrapping 
The dawn turns black in front of the history 
Perfect characters, afflicted convulse 
Indenominated creations sacrifice themselves 
Prophetised solemnity of the analogies 
Divine themselves by stagnant apathetic forms