we laughed like unholstered pistols danced like brandished blades we stood out like tendons strung on a giants wrist when the cannons fired across the eastern sky the commotion awoke the monsters from deep slumber still we smiled like freshly stropped razors glinting across the marbled seas
blood flecked saliva drips down another shattered dream two black eyes a crooked nose scabs in place of feelings take your withered hopespring cast it into the well of lies like all the other pendulous tragedies that harbor grief in wooden horses outside the gates of joy
it was the scent of freshly fallen rain on a field of tulips she danced among the open blooms with no sense of time or place lost in the heady clouds of pollen weighed down by moisture sending swirls of the yellow dust into the sodden air with every intricate movement somehow avoiding the flowers […]
Mike's Manic Word Depot 