.
Once upon a time...
Over a Godless region whose name I don't want to remember, two apparitions there were.
He cried to a killing moon, a little blood, a little bark.
She moaned to the distance and her inner phantoms, aquatic, woman.
And how the tale goes ahead?
Over the extension of twisted trees and dandelions-periscope
[where the Sun of Love stopped shining long ago]
an atmosphere of heavenly smoke and rare Chernobyls
welcome a sun carried by furies
as the short day passes by
and the hydrant night falls
again over the sterile land.
Over her aquatic cryings, over his distant phantoms...
[If you read between the lines, you'll see]
The paralyzed stars of God cursed away this stage of porcelain long ago...
But in a strange cosmic paradox, the God of Love/Love God, still floats, caressed by angels who play poker and smoke at the gates of dëlïrium
[and do you read in between, my?]
Her bloody moans will call him until this land, spelled by the horror, have a little of mercy...
.
