Hieronymus Bosch Tracer Bullet Falling Star
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
