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 this compact 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 the comet's arrival
 is a firm jacket for the lawbook.
 And every law is a legacy
 and every law is deadly.
 My eyes are becoming upturned binoculars
 And Now things around are frustrated.
 Naked houses, drunken 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.