Ah, my eternally big moon. Stands proud over my daylight in the dank of a mid summer winter while I fixate whats left of my eyes on the ground soiled of blood and lace. It was a decent night for the first time since the day I died in the cradle, under my mothers empty stare and an adrenaline needle as long as the weeks of pain I didnt die through. Still sinking deeper into the sunrise, I waltz by myself through the iron curtains and dimly lit windows of the sleepless demons who ignore life as I do at this hour. Still sinking closer to the end of my rising blink, I crush out my cigarette that died hours ago and ponder further the once upon a tomorrow look in her eyes and motions of her lips that I couldnt hear through the sound of the rushing bulls. I remember her silver gown complimented by strips of black brocade and ribbons down to here. She had a way of wearing it, you know? The stylistic stance of a princess pony with starlight black hair in knots and twirls, blow me a kiss and float closer to the pond of my spilled heart. She had these shoulders etched with knife scars and feline battles, graced by the reflections of the sterling blades in her vail. A smile that knew the minute at last and nothing further, nothing before. Careless as the angels who dropped me off the cliff face when I met her in the room of dirt and overpriced company.
I didnt light another cigarette as I passed through the broadway tunnel, it just hangs there with the tears that refuse to open the door for fear that the sun, only moments from her cue, would catch them in their dawnlight masquerade and scorch them to the surface of my faceless face. I stood at the gateway and watched through the towers of morter and steel, an obelisk of cement and lights unnecessarily charged for the absolutely no spectators in this not so momentous event. Another day here, lost and gone without her and left off the records that I never bothered to keep. The sun is late, or maybe she just doesnt care to put much effort in her arrival anymore, since the people stopped knowing her and the lords stopped giving her such glorious lakes to shine on. A glutton for attention, as I see it. The most detrimental type of girl. Demanding and insisting, she is without my ear to scream into or hands to place her kiss. I turn my back once more and continue to descend the emotional void I bathe in, hurting for the cure of my guardian angel, my natural twin, my arrow and bow, my past breaking turpentine, my absent cinder still wanting the pain inside me, my only me, my only agathie, my only want, my only love. Her call I missed, I miss. Her voice left an impression there to strike me when I feel most alone, as I live and I breathe while I die and I breathe.
The rays show their tired pull, absent of will to surface and give more to the world who no longer cares. Her cascade through the fog of war, through cars and machines and men alike. The crush of an industrial apocalypse, still born through the history of our flight as long as the books can remember, has stolen her desire to provide any further for a race so full of hate. Yet she comes. The daughter sun in her inferno of our breath, here to strike my shoulders and wake the layers of dust from my coat. I squint and walk away to another dark day dedicated to memories of a girl and a neverending sigh that remembers the way she walked the dawn with me so long ago.
I didnt light another cigarette as I passed through the broadway tunnel, it just hangs there with the tears that refuse to open the door for fear that the sun, only moments from her cue, would catch them in their dawnlight masquerade and scorch them to the surface of my faceless face. I stood at the gateway and watched through the towers of morter and steel, an obelisk of cement and lights unnecessarily charged for the absolutely no spectators in this not so momentous event. Another day here, lost and gone without her and left off the records that I never bothered to keep. The sun is late, or maybe she just doesnt care to put much effort in her arrival anymore, since the people stopped knowing her and the lords stopped giving her such glorious lakes to shine on. A glutton for attention, as I see it. The most detrimental type of girl. Demanding and insisting, she is without my ear to scream into or hands to place her kiss. I turn my back once more and continue to descend the emotional void I bathe in, hurting for the cure of my guardian angel, my natural twin, my arrow and bow, my past breaking turpentine, my absent cinder still wanting the pain inside me, my only me, my only agathie, my only want, my only love. Her call I missed, I miss. Her voice left an impression there to strike me when I feel most alone, as I live and I breathe while I die and I breathe.
The rays show their tired pull, absent of will to surface and give more to the world who no longer cares. Her cascade through the fog of war, through cars and machines and men alike. The crush of an industrial apocalypse, still born through the history of our flight as long as the books can remember, has stolen her desire to provide any further for a race so full of hate. Yet she comes. The daughter sun in her inferno of our breath, here to strike my shoulders and wake the layers of dust from my coat. I squint and walk away to another dark day dedicated to memories of a girl and a neverending sigh that remembers the way she walked the dawn with me so long ago.
VIEW 25 of 33 COMMENTS
if it's anything I'd simply say "I think therefore you are".
and actually thre is a regional office for the big S in your area. it's 3565 S. Broadmont