Hells (I)

Lingering late in the vague
Memory of a spectre,
Born in light was the puff,
Tenacious and passive,
Churches bells roared.
Tired and naked
From a bourgeois sackcloth,
Evil eyes and lost smoke
Paint the sky.
I’m afraid of descending
Before the time comes;
There they saw me and got me
So how could I avoid it?
Fearsome, I’m stretching
To step on diamonds,
Letting myself exhaust.
'nd I’m the mother hen
To the kind of thinking
You struggle to extinguish.
Though I did promise
To bear tact and empathy,
Serious and firm smiles,
To bathe in fresh milk,
Mastic and pebbles.
The statue, turning
Grabs me and folds me
And we were to bonfires.
Settle, soul of mine,
For the heart suffers,
For the stars foresaw
Whatever is offered
By the cruelest grin;
Charcoal wings
Dipped in yellows
In abandoned forts.
I burn,
Hair in the winds,
Playful executing
A precise order
And I forget how to walk.