Tracer bullet falling star - Hieronymus Bosch

Molted moon is drowning in the pool

Iced skies, stars-scars

Silver bleeding

Burning breath of life is getting cool

Face the haze, dusk-mask

Black hole breeding

Smell this bittersweet noise

Slowly coming in sight

Feel the presence of someone

Who watches you sleep every night

Wingless dream…

Don’t make a crawl

It comes too far

Catch the tracer bullet

Falling star

Morning light will come too soon

Grim grin, reek trick of your senses

Raging flames of the offensive afternoon

You’re getting spill, the broken will, high defenceless…

The flight of thousand burning birds…

You step aside and watch your back!

In the hour of pages groaned with words

And yellow spiders attack