Used to be frail, and pale, weak inside now the darkened leather of skin has done much more than save my life. It's consumed. Dark steel armor has worn, formed rusted spikes that slowly push to impale with blunted and poisonous points. I've inhaled After one long, deep and drawn out sigh in to twilight's heels, it feels as though it kills to survive the night.
. . .
To survive tonight Welcome to the party Trash can lights light, illuminate To survive tonight Free junk and dry cardboard Beckon, calling out names That sound like yours
I had a lot of fun with this one.
I've lived in the area surrounding Portland nearly my entire life, and over time, I've realized its appeal is that it's just a big pile of junk. I can't help but think cardboard meets clean steel, skirts/suits meet black duster jacket and ****** crew.
Who the hell finds that appealing? I guess I do. I haven't wanted to leave yet. It does something to your insides, though. Literally and figuratively. I like being a rat.