snowfall

Everyone speaks with an echo, infernal dying light and sad embers of painted freezing flames, the slick snow-wet brickwork ; patchwork pastels and bright white wintry mixture, the baleful bliss and bales of pallid cigar smoke drifting through the battered cold clouds.

Hands down, holding sexual gazes, an arabesque pirouette, punctured coke cans and rushing icy plateau's, meek favorable fawns dozing in the meadow. An erotic curve and playful bite mark on your inner thigh, bit lip, window closed, day-break; warm-hot breath on the steel blue-blinds, iris cobalt of laconic ambulant shadows kissing and humming softly.

Tracing fingertips, veiled low-moaning movement manifesto, occulent orchid drones, perpetually violent sun-light in violet shock-waves, sleet-showers of pensive poetic skin, hard thick covers in an arctic embrace of vicious cinders, a romantic snow-globe of frozen rain, the slow rails and shotgun mortuary's of the drowsy city plantation outside.

Inside, lavender and licorice, charming faux wax on waxen wooden floors, a gentle tender smooth salient and succulent caramel ass on my bed, an intoxicated heaven, kiss your neck, to the center, tongue circling the darker color, yummy areola's and the other, the dreary snowflakes start to fall like silver ashen petals, triple opaque hue portraits of passive pearlesque busted plates, you are pretty and purring like resplendent raspberries in a frost gulch, soft glacier blooms and gelid mist over the sleepy street-lamps.

midas touch

I feel like I was bitten by a prostitute, a rust colored prosthetic limb razing my dead skin. Old golden holes and window eyes for window dummies, all neatly dressed ebony mannequins along a sidewalk of chewing gum.

Squared apartment complex, a labyrinth of skinny-fat whores, unsophisticated money and coin. Gaze and wasted stems, sporadic discarded wrappers, small delicate frames of plastique human-explosives, candy and sugar coated arteries under the robes and veils of clothes and chemical smells.

Traffic-Legionary's and the terse stampede of caramel gluts for the gluttons, the oil thieves and starving horrors behind the dumpster. A black deep onyx cigar box, unbelievable smooth texture, the slender curve and ripple of magnetic, poetic skin, brutal teeth marks, demons, a bludgeoned Afghan slick with rain, sickly story birds and blue bruises under her eyes.

syria

Fucked up ruinous portraits, all ivory blasted hollow to fit in these ceramic mosaics. Black caskets and hezbollah yellow, terroristic birds on a wire with caustic echo's.

It shall be for flocks, so sayeth the Lord. Skittish skinny arms, sunlight orchids, bereaved elms bent like filtered light through a battered window blind, it's bearable, these god-less, goddamn exploding barrels of burnt flowers.

A blustery winter mixture of snow and ice; an aftermath debris blood red and holding their dead children like blankets of starved tree limbs, flags and burlap sacks, they look like little skeletal cages, silver tracks in the snow, the birds look like tiny plague doctors or nigger priests perched on the curved rib of a makeshift pulpit.