An arid lantern exhales abrasive hums It rests in the smothering cloak of humid anticipation
Names of children are scrawled on the nicotene cricketsβ lattice backs The crickets bumble in drunken waltz along the ground They cannot fly through clouds gasping on the chains of Cerberusβ collar
The sticky smog and shadows scuttle through the low-hanging, lifeless clouds Itβs innocent origins trickle from the hem of Godβs garment To the jaded, cracked doorframe to deliverence
This sympathetic shack of dim-witted yellows and hosiery pink She lays porcelain petals on the descending steps into indigo overcast