Sunday, February 24, 2013

Flashing Streets

 Flooring mouths towards Heavens change,
a mindless mess in gray short range.
Chance the spray of teasing, talk
evil chatter, past her balk

 Deep in a high, low-maintenance mansion,
leg work and passion; a game of her own shame
and someone to crash on.
Forward placement on the rinds too long,
alone in bags she sees her song.
Late to see the bleed in deed, a man in need,
of harsh concern who can hardly breath.

Melodies don’t ring, but hollow pen work sings
in men’s rooms dreams of sexy girls on glowing screens.
Golden scenes and blank board chalk-powder screams.
Policing pain, please print your name, an open heart is still a stain,
the wash won’t work for the monetary gain, one still remains, dents the frame half price morning, She was sold in vain.

  His seat more dusty and weak, looking back he sees the reasons she dropped her keys,
but doesn't feel the breeze of breaking knees.
Red, yellow, green somewhere between, he knew the feeling of flashing streets,
the lights repeat and light up the peaks. 
She’s praying under a leaky ceiling, with best intentions while she’s kneeling,
caught in the red room with the plaster peeling. that small room, lost, no more appealing,
There's no more hope, she's lost all feeling.

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