Youth, say.
Arrogance.
Fury from his mouth bowed like a song for bleeding insects and at our feet the city. the furnace. the prospects forged one after the other in the bask of golden street lights as she walked away.
His hand clenched in passing.
Well You Damn Well Should!.mp3
1.10.2008
1.09.2008
Paradise
And i blew my brains right the fuck out of my head. right hemisphere gone. splattered across the bathroom walls and the blood. the blood poured for days from the gaping wound dimly covered by a matted head of coal black hair. it was all in the operation. all a reason. a purpose. leave the left and let a man be more efficient at the clandestine.
Had to clean it up. had to wash it down. drag the boy in. he's here to help. real pedigree when it comes to matters of life and limb or whatever the fuck you want to call the security of this smoldering pile of rotten tissue i used to call a city of men, angels. trees and sunlight coming down through glass tapestry wrapped in irons.
Digression.
There's a line left. i can feel it. wrinkles in the lobe i have that shouldn't be there.
We'll get it later. the task at hand. years of gray pieced together and sluiced down the drain. blood on the drapes. sinking into the tiles.
He arrives ahead of time, goddamnit. draws his razor. the boy hits the lights. i close my eyes enough to see the glint of mine and nothing else. tear out. sink in. watch it blacken. dim in soft, pale flesh.
He collapses.
No match for a man who love left.
The task at hand and then the morning.
Into the Death.mp3
Had to clean it up. had to wash it down. drag the boy in. he's here to help. real pedigree when it comes to matters of life and limb or whatever the fuck you want to call the security of this smoldering pile of rotten tissue i used to call a city of men, angels. trees and sunlight coming down through glass tapestry wrapped in irons.
Digression.
There's a line left. i can feel it. wrinkles in the lobe i have that shouldn't be there.
We'll get it later. the task at hand. years of gray pieced together and sluiced down the drain. blood on the drapes. sinking into the tiles.
He arrives ahead of time, goddamnit. draws his razor. the boy hits the lights. i close my eyes enough to see the glint of mine and nothing else. tear out. sink in. watch it blacken. dim in soft, pale flesh.
He collapses.
No match for a man who love left.
The task at hand and then the morning.
Into the Death.mp3
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
