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There are archers in rooftops 270 meters to my east They account for the wind They feel the humidity as the air condensates on the back of their neck Crawling down their spine They inhale Let out their carbon in a slow steady sigh Their target is at the door to my dorm room My door creeks open The archers let the cord to their payment slide down the mountainous ridges on the end of their fingers One archers whispers "for freedom" The arrow soars to the window that lets light pour onto my covers Glass shatters The thud of a body falls to the floor I sit up A thousand grasshoppers replace my bones The hairs on my arms are attentive The lights illuminate my illusions I stare at my own body on the floor I fall to my knees Meeting my eyes to the dead stare so familiar in mirrors Finally This monster is dead A ****** arrow stands from his forehead From his toes to his hair, he falls to ashes The broken window letting in a breeze that vaccums the ashes from the room All that's left An arrow stuck to my floor The arrow penetrates a photograph I lift the picture to take a closer look A hole covers the eyes What gives it away is the smile The complection Finally This monster is dead
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Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 9:43 PM UTC
Lamp Shades Become Spartan Shields When The Night Begins To Talk
There are archers in rooftops 270 meters to my east They account for the wind They feel the humidity as the air condensates on the back of their neck Crawling down their spine They inhale Let out their carbon in a slow steady sigh Their target is at the door to my dorm room My door creeks open The archers let the cord to their payment slide down the mountainous ridges on the end of their fingers One archers whispers "for freedom" The arrow soars to the window that lets light pour onto my covers Glass shatters The thud of a body falls to the floor I sit up A thousand grasshoppers replace my bones The hairs on my arms are attentive The lights illuminate my illusions I stare at my own body on the floor I fall to my knees Meeting my eyes to the dead stare so familiar in mirrors Finally This monster is dead A ****** arrow stands from his forehead From his toes to his hair, he falls to ashes The broken window letting in a breeze that vaccums the ashes from the room All that's left An arrow stuck to my floor The arrow penetrates a photograph I lift the picture to take a closer look A hole covers the eyes What gives it away is the smile The complection Finally This monster is dead
aaron-diff4rent-mcdaniel
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Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 9:43 PM UTC
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