Future Sin

Confined by design. Through streets of apathy we bow down to crippled crows and absence. Chaos. Reined in dismay. There should be something more, but it does nothing but bore. Eclipsed by half-formed shapes on the side of her face, she riddles me with a kiss. Olden weighs, soaked with beer and love. Heavy shadows, creeping up and plucked clean out. Nerves as strings, snapped on a whim. Suckling on a breast so plump, my throat escapes a sigh so fine. Future sin. Arms around the bomb. Nil multiplied by zero. Reach out, and grab a handful of wonder. She’s an exit. Something pale and obsolete. Encased in fear, and petrified liked the dead. Sweet and sickly, so ugly in denial. Discoloured. Sour, like the love of a thousand spurned hearts. A well of despair, growing like black holes in the sky. Mother nature, a killer of all we hold dear. Watching dead children play with nothing but disdain and contempt. Lovely little devils, spinning so frequent and ill.

Fate, falling like snow. Hush now, and sway gently in time to the music. Oceans inside, flooding with no sense of concern. Lines on our brows. Fingers bent and frail. Sunlight. Walls of ancient worship. Buildings for lost souls. A frame of mind, existing outside of time. In the magic of a moonlit embrace, we know what we want. The veins of this old town and the massacred innocence of our youth that line its streets. The terror of the tenth man. So fell a victim. Shaven headed girl, all ready and mine. Pucker up and get ready for fun, kitten. Priest. Pimp. Insects in the air. Boiled. Stamped. Chewed. All we do is consume so easily. Golden limbs on show, we take each breath with ease. Snuffed and puffed, we huff with delight. Blow. The glow, of a wicked young soul. Shriek’d. Oblique. Terror in her tummy. Fragments of failure. Cigarettes and coffee. The line against neon whores, so thin and erotic. The feeling of being reduced, what we cling to with vengeance. All those cursed vigilantes, stained with fate and never able to leave it behind.

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