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
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 3:33 AM UTC
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.
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