Enchanters

Where enchanters, sacrifices
Dictated my days in misery,
Still looking at each emotion
Several crafts and ghastly gaps
Delivered to the profusion of various addictions
And one really know when and how much
I deserve every fall and get up,
Bones are eaves of cliffs
Mechanical life is translated
In the absence of any light terminal,
The land overlying the hard bones,
And so I dreamed, I verses, believed,
And now behold what was left
Hideous and ridiculous, vague, nothing...

MARCOS LOURES