ROBICHARA

In the morbid day of a blue condor bird
relays a youth that constantly die
and every time they open their eyes
the frames and mirrors individually drag themselves by the wall of asphalt

Then the broken walls emerge from dust once again
and they dye in the wallet of elements
reminding them to wear a mask
in the dust
in the cold
in the eyes
in their hearts
in the realm castle of death
and things