Hunted

A few grains of dust more or less

On ancient shoulders

Locks of weakness on weary foreheads

This theatre of honey and faded roses

Where incalcuable flies

Reply to the black signs that misery makes to them

Despairing girders of a bridge

Thrown across space

Thrown across every street and every house

Heavy wandering madnesses

That we shall end by knowing by heart

Mechanical appetites and uncontrolled dances

That lead to the regret of hatred

Nostalgia of justice