Hunted

A few grains of dust more or less On ancient shoulders Locks of weakness on weary foreheads This theatre of honey and faded roses Where incalcuable flies Reply to the black signs that misery makes to them Despairing girders of a bridge Thrown across space Thrown across every street and every house Heavy wandering madnesses That we shall end by knowing by heart Mechanical appetites and uncontrolled dances That lead to the regret of hatred Nostalgia of justice