August 12, 2012
Should vacant shouts fill my bones
I suddenly saw myself fleeting along the pale puckered sky
It reminded me of cod the way they held themselves up, those roamers
I slipped through easily like butter on rye
Passing hobbled cripples, prudish arbitrates, robust groaning and moaning
Stop. Blink. Breathe. Each moment is a try
Cold warmth seeps through and shakes my core. I feel all eyes on me honing in
They draw back, fear shrinking and shriveled saying their goodbyes
Their cold hands pattering against the windowpanes like rain against the towns sky dome
Covered and rotting, rats pick along the town at night
The royal eyes depicting Rome
O!, Lonely slate in an overcrowded smog covered stately street light
It comes every day, different forms, and different stories owned
Slight and tragic horror fills hers and his eyes as it strikes

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