Love is a bitch that licks moon from the street
In the city,
With rabied eyes and half lighted face I hang out in its every turns
multiplied in to infinite tales
A pale, dense river of unknown liquid flows nearby.
An electrified string is played and sustained to eternal pitch.
Love barks at the fading moon.
A fleet of horror sails to the glass town where I reflect to me.
Love is still a bitch that looks up,sitting still
charcoal black silhouette
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
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