Labyrinths of agony
We do not have a language for the final,
Love for fall,
For concentrates labyrinths of agony,
gagged for scandal
the irrevocable collapses.
How to tell us who leaves
or who leave
to add another to the absence absence
It is to stifle all names
around each image.
How to signal who dies,
when all the gestures are dried,
distances are confused in unexpected chaos,
near collapse as sick birds
and stem pain
it breaks like shuttle
a decomposed loom.
Or how to speak each himself
when nothing, when no longer speaks,
when the stars and the faces are neutral secretions
a world that has lost
his memory of a world.
Maybe a language for end
require the total abolition of other languages,
the imperturbable synthesis
the scorched earth.
Or maybe create a speech of gaps,
which meets the minimum spaces
interspersed between silence and word
and the unknown particles without greed.