bright lights in double zero fashion
pitches made of the shade
the grinding of teeth, of metal, of rusted scalpels on flesh that is dry and unshaven
satin for the tower
infernos for the lover
malicious intents at sunset
breakage at dawn
an angel vows to break his neck at the expense of nothing
a demon lies below the last few feet of her intestines
praised for all but one thing
her inner nature

the sun cries tears of ice and the moon explodes in a fiery blaze
she says that there is doom looming from her ceiling, the plaster cracking and leaving remnants on her sheets
she says they stick to her skin
he, from outside of her room, calls her a liar
but there is always the keyhole

three dots for meanings unknown
ignorance hidden in chemical compounds made into a set of atoms so sharp they leave one full of weights
on the lungs
on the heart
on the stomach
triangles in all the wrong locations
close your eyes

they want to be ethereal
impossible and impartial to the rest is the desire
but low is the blow and high is the cost
they have devouring souls
gaping mouths
thoughts wrapped in 'my name is...' stickers
perfect beings don't have names
nor human souls
so flawed, even in their best designs
and so
they don't deserve the wings of the ethereally blessed, as thick and dark as they are
they see them as paper thin, silver, flashy
a trophy for the wooden boned
they don't deserve them
they don't deserve them at all

he is an innocent bystander with blood stained lips and an armory, cleaned weekly, free of rust or lint
his curse is more than beauty
it is the rotted brain hidden beneath velvet curtains
he shoves it deep, but it pokes from its confines
bits and pieces
from the fabric of his pants
the curve of his adam's apple
the shade of his eyes
the lord of death, her dress long and made of stars, cups his face as he drives
she lifts my legs as i grab hold of the concrete