between the horizon of interpretation and dejection

you
speak of
demons and
how they thirst for
blood so they become
friends with shadows,
then cast themselves upon
dreams after midnight, and the
silence of hope crumbles from the
edge of the earth. homes lose their
warmth: the light becomes cold
even when the blue summer
sky welcomes her clouds.
you tread on the beach
of uncertainty holding
hands with a demon
in a white dress
you look back
and smile.

all
the
cocooned
hope
wither
and
turn
to
.d.u.s.t.