Looking for a nymph in metaltown

claw feet picking at the leather floors
of waterhouses
(to save a soul
you must drop an audience)
a word that has never been painted
a tongue to fill the dryest mouth
skyscrapers of chalk
standing, waiting
eternity
standing, waiting
in those windows
whose eyes are always eager for shattering
littlegirl hold my hand
all the ferns and flowers turn bright red
littlesister ride my shoulders
into a twilight that comes
for only one of us
this body falls like a rag
hair soaked blonde in gasoline
souls walking atheistic corridors
bewildered by academic vomit
stung by a rose's cliche, lashed clean
by the fingers of a forest's first branch