Sanctuaries and broken walls
Empty rooms with plaster
Rusted as if urinated
Red light pouring in
Instead of fresh air
It did stink of brothel
Some broken things in purple
An activity
On the top of the stairs
As if hanging to it
A pigeon room
Dwellings in ruins
Claustrophobic
There was a match
Of cricket
At night
Under shrieking music
It was better than death
In these dwellings
There are no ghosts
But sighs of death prevail
An artists mind
Urban nightmare
Pipes leaking on walls
A Latino effect
I heard players have been
Shot with live footage
Will the dead perceive and feel
Just when they stop breathing
As cells have some life too
We discussed horrible things
In these quarters
Death is the only amusement
4/3/2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem