Tonight our words are forming boundaries, coercing us into this silhouette of blatant fiction. It wavers. Oh, just then you threw your arms around me effectively inducing Looking Glass derived refractions.
So don't wait for us. The season's perfect. Hold on, be still. The shadow's coming. And we'll sing, we'll sing like murderers in choirs. When we shelter these infractions I'm in love. The curvature of prose completes us. There's no substance in our lungs.
But now this condescending grandeur will seize our rhetorical cries. I'm here my sweet Madeline. And write me off like I'm a child I've used up my newness in stride. I'm here my sweet Madeline. Because the infraction in decency accents your perception of what we imply, you fabricate your affections tonight. And your makeshift compassion's affectively placed when it suits you and their compliments seem to run dry. I'll be your default tonight. So take my kindness as a weakness; I am benign. But still I'll hold on. I'll hold on!
You are the consummate motion of dilated inhibitions. Improve your net worth by negating your constraints. You're the malevolent rupture in collective progression. I am your sense of achievement. I'm a fallback, I'm your failures, but you are the one I would die for
just an insert from one of the novels i'm working on:
My hands were red. I've never seen much blood outside the film screen. I should be nauseous, scared. I was enlightened, high. My heart racing with delight. I couldn't keep my eyes of of it, her. It was warm like a bundle of wool blankets on the coldest night of winter. A puddle of wine kicked over by mother stumbling over too reach the blaring sound of the telephone that never rang. She looked up at me, mouth wide in shock. Almost erotic the way her lip quivered though her heart had already stopped beating. It was so silent here except for the curious rodents coming to investigate in hopes i'd leaver her here and they could indulge in midnight feast. Sometimes i feel tired of holding her hand but i couldn't let go. she was now a part of me. eyes glazed maybe from earlier drinks, maybe not. This is my first dead body. i've seen frozen animals, and tortured the house pets of those who annoyed me. but nothing was as real as touching the cool skin of one you erased. The alley shined red making the aura around us seem pink like a graphic novel come to life. She was dressed for success not a business woman not a dancer. Probably bored to death..death...in an office the way her hair ended in a tight bun, just trickles of hair grazing her face. Brunette, ageing gracefully but faster than she intended. She was porcelain now, losing the rosey cheeks she may have been known for. I waited until she was completely cold. i didn't know what to do with her.
Did i leave her here to rot? or
take her home and show her what her life could have been like?
She fell off the boat in port la surfaced on the shore without a grin upon her face music sounded begin to cry look to the heaven to beg the sky why? On her marriage bed she almost died seems her groom didn't mind suppose to sail to the islands and back how it's raining there runs her mac when shes done shell sue his ass no matter what they say shell defend her class veil washed away dress in shreds no more heels wished she had her meds.
