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An angel, singing
In the street.

I watched her breath,
It did not go far.

Tired heat, Ice splitting,
Beneath footsteps,
Pounding, down
The wintry avenue,

Passing the sweet
Smell of sorrow,

Where the corner Vicar
Told me
To be alone.

I found you instead,
Standing in the stairwell.

Your hair felt like
Feathers.

We spent the day
Chasing the sun,
Through the open door, and
Killing useless beauty.
I live beyond morality, cloudy
Skies issue complaints, however
I hardly have the time.

I often catch myself
Staring at creatures.
Wondering where they
Wander, and why.

I want to fight dragons today.
I want to find a voice
That suits me. Grey skies
And frozen cranes, bother me.

The stone wet, and
Broken. Lifeless creatures
Can be neither evil nor
Wealthy.

Broken Binaries. Broken
Machines. What glues
Our heads to our
Bodies?

Is there a separation?

Voices
Walk down the hall and
Interrupt my view
Through the window.

Focusing again I see
Opaque. Unable to
Look past the glass.
Only up to it.
The city spits and swallows
Leaving dirt pressed against its lips
The hollow shell consumes
Personality, Imperfections;
Colored veins prove existence,
Vulnerability.

The city cracks
Open, the streets divide
The human marketplace
Is ever-growing, ever-changing;
Voices are lost in the medium,
Trapped.

She sits next to me,
I look at her, *******
On a cigarette;
Happiness sits on the
Top shelf, sleeping,
Wishing.

She touches her lips,
Feels the dirt, wipes it clean;
The blood in her mouth
Leaks, lingers
Red like a plum,   cut,
Scattered.  

She dances
For the people cold and
Lifeless, A product of obsession;
Full of sickness, full of eyes
Watching her move from the dark,
Silent.

The city spits and swallows
But never washes
The dirt piling up
And the blood strewing out;
Like seduction in motion,
Gasping.

— The End —