The Horizons

The Horizons, under my balcony, are 
bearing the superior lights of the city, 
where nobody sleeps. 
This place, where metals and bones, 
concrete and blood were mixed 
to erect a sanctuary for all 
bad and good, this planet remembered. 
On purpose all born naturally 
are equipped with both rectipetality 
and self-hatred. 

In [bad word] universe several 
techniques are extraordinarily important 
for those who want to live and to die. 
Settled Red, Green, Blue 
are the colours of breathe mechanics. 
And every breath is a prayer 
And every breath is vital 
Morose asphalt, made of souls of those, 
who coddled the Earth till [bad word] #39;s arrival 
is a firm jacket for the lawbook. 
And every law is a legacy 
and every law is deadly. 

My eyes are [bad word] upturned binoculars 
And Now things around are [bad word]  
Naked houses, [bad word] street lamps, 
pained prophets are going mad, 
beating down the sun, 
waiting for it's reverse. 
And against a background of all these 
we are the lost scenery 
set up for making cheap resurrections 
every time our minds and hearts awake. 
Oblivion is the word, the horizons under 
my balcony whisper... 

wobbling, the moon rises at the top of the hill. 
This world is over. 
This world begins.