PÓLVORA Y TRAICIÓN

 Your happiness was loud like dozing off on mum's chest. The soft perfume of bread and talcum, just a vague connector between the murderous strike of reality and the longing of days which shall never come. Life used to be shiny, then  you chose the stabbing. Watching you grow cold, metal blue. My back, bleeding red against the many februarys you endured.  Hearing your ablazing shield, cold steel. My mother's last breath, your father's last bottle. The glory of this city has vanished, the sounds, the music, the colors. All gone. 

Try to survive the endless winter give shelter to yourself. Be here, be there, just stay.  Lovers lost  a million years away, incessantly drifting from the memories they made. Give it a try. They could, they wouldn't but even then, you.  Bite harder, tear apart those insides too coroded, too tangled, unworthy. Deliver me from this torture, you who art in heaven,  glory always follows you but whenever you get close this anger this rage these thoughts do just what they know.  Wound! Damage.  Is there rest for the wicked?