Friday, August 16, 2019

In the lopped off corridor
voices are taking their fleshly form.

Light crackles at the limits
of the opposite entrance
winged zone's departing swiftness.

Cliff side's blinking adverts
the trunk of a chocolate soda
vents of skylike prominence
cracked embers seeking a configuration.

Riveted silent tables
ascending pillars of sexy smoke.

And the stylish bullet hole
in the gown wrapped around
a poor sucker's head.

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