Thunk
For these terrors thrive in the fall.
Autumn and winter, that’s when madness happens! When there’s no more outside to
get lost in.
And when those punks spat at his boots he just stared. White pupils peeling off exiled Christmas trees in trash cans.
“We all have a uniform. Some of us never take it off.”
This skin was a trap. He sent grubby shots of his genitalia to strangers, hoping someone might want to paint him. No one was interested.
Flesh was a lie. He went to smack his useless appendage on the concrete in the park. It felt good to howl with the other strays.
Red pupils screaming on pavement.
For insanity feeds off loneliness. Even if you have a fat paycheque, starch-choked trousers and bleach-bled tie, you may have nowhere to rest your head. (Or heart.)
The End
And when those punks spat at his boots he just stared. White pupils peeling off exiled Christmas trees in trash cans.
“We all have a uniform. Some of us never take it off.”
This skin was a trap. He sent grubby shots of his genitalia to strangers, hoping someone might want to paint him. No one was interested.
Flesh was a lie. He went to smack his useless appendage on the concrete in the park. It felt good to howl with the other strays.
Red pupils screaming on pavement.
For insanity feeds off loneliness. Even if you have a fat paycheque, starch-choked trousers and bleach-bled tie, you may have nowhere to rest your head. (Or heart.)
The End
