the actor's emaciated. You'd think he's sacrificed blood, but the gutter is overrated.
His eyes seek out a bargain in between the brittle brick. Just like his toes, they are cracked and froze...
--- this is not a trick.
Sing an ode to your pin cushion veins and to your pastel eyes-- these wet city streets are full of broken screams and unspoken alibis.
I've heard your simple prayers, (yes) I've smelled the spark's sharp steel stench. I watched the moon slide across the frost as you slept on the park's bench.
Trade your bread for a piece of sky with a madman's son or daughter. (Yes!) This actor may be unstaged---