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lexander-jonesPoems
The light glows off her sleek hair, the tint of her skin, divine and deliciously fair - she's stood at the newsstand paying by debit card, her smart mini satchel clasped in her hand. I watch cautiously from the nearest side-street, through frosted up glass, jumping now and then at the occasional car that might pass. She's beautiful - moving so effortlessly and strangely angelic, the chemical lag of this non-present world makes it all seem so... psychedelic. Oh, will she see me stood here with those inquisitive blue eyes, will she see through my insidious disguise? 'Cause I crave food on a daily basis, many people stroll past me sniggering and laughing with disgusted faces. I lounge on the London streets, my beds are the floors, I curl up beside the twisted lepers and next to the infected ****** And so as the woman exits the shop I feel my hand twitch, and drop to the little surprise tucked in my belt - after all these years I never wanted to know how killing someone felt, but my stomach gripes in pain from starvation, my bowels are always tight with constipation, it seems everyone lives so grand but not me, oh no - I just want that bag clasped in her hand.
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Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 5:06 PM UTC
Ballad Of The City-Street ****
The light glows off her sleek hair, the tint of her skin, divine and deliciously fair - she's stood at the newsstand paying by debit card, her smart mini satchel clasped in her hand. I watch cautiously from the nearest side-street, through frosted up glass, jumping now and then at the occasional car that might pass. She's beautiful - moving so effortlessly and strangely angelic, the chemical lag of this non-present world makes it all seem so... psychedelic. Oh, will she see me stood here with those inquisitive blue eyes, will she see through my insidious disguise? 'Cause I crave food on a daily basis, many people stroll past me sniggering and laughing with disgusted faces. I lounge on the London streets, my beds are the floors, I curl up beside the twisted lepers and next to the infected ****** And so as the woman exits the shop I feel my hand twitch, and drop to the little surprise tucked in my belt - after all these years I never wanted to know how killing someone felt, but my stomach gripes in pain from starvation, my bowels are always tight with constipation, it seems everyone lives so grand but not me, oh no - I just want that bag clasped in her hand.
lexander-jones
Written by
lexander-jones
21/M
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 5:06 PM UTC
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