SICK!

This is the prelude to dementia
Where it is not possible to discern
Where ends the laughter or sadness
Where to start laughing or crying.

This is the garden of dead flowers
Where the chimera have such vivid colors
Where the black lady knocks on the door
But her visit is only a glimpse.

The eyes frozen in the invisible ...
The hostility goes throught them
Black hair, joke, smile,
A frown, treachery, vanity.

The other creatures of dementia?
It's the gaze of the flashes of old,

It's being in  euphoria and inertia,
It's having at own face morning and dawn.