from the city there arises a sickness, a spitefulness that leaves us demented
from the trenches a stream of frail scarecrows abound
surmounting an unseen hand
despite the autonomous reign they pound fists on dirt
despite the lethal charges, the fight, the walls opposing resistance
and the deepness from forearm’s blood swells
scarecrows digging for precious missing greenery, become monotonous
digging for hunger, they hold their bile in their throats
the mire bellows with overgrown children
underneath the culture, the beast breathes and eats salivating from the taste of fickleness
openness is thrown up to the sky of treacherous vultures, circling the debt
above the gray clouds there is an unknown light, goes unnoticed
the city immerses
indulges itself
a metronome ticks with shame
the beast is craving the deliciousness of the canvass covered in meek flesh
his tongue is quivering, aching for the taste of their massive influence
behind the towers a vanilla red sky is bold
the earth, quakes and smashes like pancakes
meshing the triumph with the misery
senselessness covers itself in the superfluous language
awkward, meaningless, without structure or form
no longer is it simple
no longer is its complexities deconstructed to simplicity
it is only a city of dreams that fill the void