In pumps and a skirt...
We had agreed to meet on the roof of one of your buildings.
I checked my pocketwatch and then tossed it at the angels we'd created that were flying above the streets below.
A choir of nameless children cried out to the heavens
As the pups scattered from both creature and car.
I could hear you coming with the whistling in the wind,
The sudden movement of the moon
And your bandaged body guard who had just ascended the stairs.
Your scars were fading from the Vitamin E and you held a stuffy doll
Adorned with pins and needles, bleeding from the eyes,
A victim of your most casual of dotes.
I didn't turn away from the fires below and your nails found their way into the switches in my spine,
Prodding and plunging into my minor fixes.
You looked at me with your one good eye and blood trickled from your lips.
You swallowed some pills and I held your hand as I lit up a smoke and summoned a dragon whelp to clear the clouds for us.
The machines in your hips hummed with the rotation of the Earth
And I found my tongue again inside your mouth,
Your cavern of mistakes
Where you bred your queen bees and silk-weaving spiders.
You downloaded my essence and breathed it out of your nose and some of the other less-pretty holes in your face.
The bombs you've set in my churches are ticking.
I had called for you earlier.
"The moon is out and the citizens are sick. Meet me at our pestilence engine in pumps and a skirt." I had said.
You had complied
And our city on the verge, over the edge, was pressed.
-Brian
I checked my pocketwatch and then tossed it at the angels we'd created that were flying above the streets below.
A choir of nameless children cried out to the heavens
As the pups scattered from both creature and car.
I could hear you coming with the whistling in the wind,
The sudden movement of the moon
And your bandaged body guard who had just ascended the stairs.
Your scars were fading from the Vitamin E and you held a stuffy doll
Adorned with pins and needles, bleeding from the eyes,
A victim of your most casual of dotes.
I didn't turn away from the fires below and your nails found their way into the switches in my spine,
Prodding and plunging into my minor fixes.
You looked at me with your one good eye and blood trickled from your lips.
You swallowed some pills and I held your hand as I lit up a smoke and summoned a dragon whelp to clear the clouds for us.
The machines in your hips hummed with the rotation of the Earth
And I found my tongue again inside your mouth,
Your cavern of mistakes
Where you bred your queen bees and silk-weaving spiders.
You downloaded my essence and breathed it out of your nose and some of the other less-pretty holes in your face.
The bombs you've set in my churches are ticking.
I had called for you earlier.
"The moon is out and the citizens are sick. Meet me at our pestilence engine in pumps and a skirt." I had said.
You had complied
And our city on the verge, over the edge, was pressed.
-Brian