The basement skeletons and their tragic waitresses drag their harpsichord lungs and jukebox telepathy to porcelain oblivion. Delighting in taxicab obscenity and craving nightmares, or any excuse to see only cloudy days. Battered midnight fastens lonely windowsills and starving firetrucks. The pavement detectives observe every click. Money shines brighter than the sun, and theres a psychotherapist stationed in every bedroom. Evenings bring static amnesia, a hungry womb. The rooftop concubine charges for electricity. Vocabularies ooze through the soil of every landfill. The cemeteries are vibrating mythology, immortal and all thats left of the living. |

|
|
Comments
--
love isn't blind...it sees all,but loves anyway
your words are pretty catching.
(I'm suggesting this to the DailyLitDeviations. It's too good to just leave with a fave.)
--
I really should be studying.
active in:
*DailyLitDeviations ~alphabetspawn *Critique-It
Previous PageNext Page