“I don’t know…”
Eyes bored into a drooping scalp; face met foor, face met face met floor. Hands shook in navy pockets. Gray eyes stared. Lips were licked.
AND THE FIRE RUBBED THE STREETS––CRUMBLING CORPULENT STREETS WIDE AS SUNBEAMS. AND SHE SCREAMED.
Eyes raised (what bravery!), looked over shoulders––great angular masses, clefts like cliffs truculentlycutting a still sky.
AND THE FACES WERE INCREDULOUS, BLANK AS PASTEL PAINTS ON CHAOTIC CANVAS. AND SHE SCREAMED.
Tacitly the two stared at the tiled flooring.
All was left, and as acquaintance walked away lungs burned and heaved, lungs punctured and puked. Fingers massaged face, massaged bones and eyes red as sunset.
AND THE GLASS BURST LIKE BOMBS AS SHARPENED HANDS PLUNGED, WRECKED, LEFT FOR DEAD THOSE WATERY CHIPS OF SHREDDED TRANSPARENCY. OH, HOW IT HURT.
Don’t talk to me don’t talk to me.
Blank face tried best to be impervious. The world enjoyed pain, laughing at the fool in derisiverepetition. Nails were bitten; heads were pounded.
AND SHE LAY IN THE CENTER OF THE STREET AND SHE SOBBED AND HER SCREAMS STABBED THE AIR. AND THE CARS ROARED, THEY ROLLED HER CARCASS AGAINST THE MIDNIGHT. AND IT HURT.