sweat rolls down his spine and the cats tail will sway to the pace of the nearby pocket watch, ticking down time til the world shall end and the sun will beam through the windows and the babies will scream sounding like birds ripping souls from the worms that lay low to the cold hard ground in the middle of fall and I promise, darling, oh I promise the clouds will cry tonight while the moon beams comfort the girl with that red long hair, who sings so horridly the boys go blind from nonsense. and that moment, her father will cry while sipping his whiskey and her mother will take one too many pills to ease the pain knowing her son will die and her unborn will never grow again. like flowers on the mountain tops, nothing will be revoked from your paradisiacal grip that carries the world on a stick.