through the walls it was bleeding, all over me.
The sky is fuzzy...so light right over this town. Like innumerable gulps of milk chugged upwards, dispersed in a fraction of sunlight - why is the sky bright over me? A being with cherries on its eyes and frosting round the mouth...there is no way out, the dense suffocating fumes encroaching with the smell of lilacs. Sweet surrender. A prozac-filled dog wimpers on the the streetcorner and I look into his eyes - they are soft and creamy. He paws at some flesh, I stoop down and hold a fist of red.
A nightengale died at dawn this morning, from a broken heart...you cannot love another species! You cannot love the hummingbird, the ruby-throated - slain, slashed, stained sinner. And the dog spews up, appallled, and then he licks the bleeding breast of his friend.
A stranger walks by, and, turns, and, looks, curious? I send him a dogged look, a look asking for sympathy, kind questions, a number perhaps...a squeeze on the shoulder and a pet for the dog and then - he smiles, grin washeing evenly over his smooth feature.... he pushes the butt of his cigarrette deep, deep into the purple chest of the nightengale, so deep I can see a nerve twitch, suction-like, upon the filter...
And then I realized, all along, i was that butt of the cigarette! I was always the little man dangling from the stranger's bulbous lips!!! It was a revelation!!!!! I felt the cold, creamy flesh of the nightengale, and it was a relief from the hot, pursing tissues of the man who spat me out.
A nightengale died at dawn this morning, from a broken heart...you cannot love another species! You cannot love the hummingbird, the ruby-throated - slain, slashed, stained sinner. And the dog spews up, appallled, and then he licks the bleeding breast of his friend.
A stranger walks by, and, turns, and, looks, curious? I send him a dogged look, a look asking for sympathy, kind questions, a number perhaps...a squeeze on the shoulder and a pet for the dog and then - he smiles, grin washeing evenly over his smooth feature.... he pushes the butt of his cigarrette deep, deep into the purple chest of the nightengale, so deep I can see a nerve twitch, suction-like, upon the filter...
And then I realized, all along, i was that butt of the cigarette! I was always the little man dangling from the stranger's bulbous lips!!! It was a revelation!!!!! I felt the cold, creamy flesh of the nightengale, and it was a relief from the hot, pursing tissues of the man who spat me out.