money bags, smokestacks, white powder and heights
on bent boulevards with brutal windows
reclusive silhouette stalkers hidden just behind
red mourners on charcoal ice
window shades plume, dust and ash diffuse into
twin horned rebels with sawed off exhaust pipes
ashtray dance/\clouds hover in the dark
as she tightropes straight down into the devils heart
the mirrors that surround
are as a shroud passed down
from the heavens to alter truth
all the cracks between the blue
are here resembled
love, dearly distorted
in the absence of breath or youth