I am pathetic. I write words...
The sky is damp coal.
It chews through the meditative air with the sound of a thousand cannons.
It's hair is legion.
Her lips are crimson glass.
Where a cigarette stays captive between them.
The ocean is falling down.
All she can see through the pouring fog is a parking lot.
Where a lunatic waits to recite funeral literature.
In the meantime, fucking in the back of a classic American car intensifies the crash.
©2009 D.B.
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