annanias

She's a twisted kitten I'm a junkyard cat a romance of claws and spittin but baby knows I like it like that She's a diamond collar girl makes me feel like a bum man, she's creme de la creme and it rolls off her tongue She's one of a kind nothin short of a dime no stricken kitten was ever so smitten as me, as me with mine it's gasoline and pearls stalkin through alleyways an open door to the dancefloor only one face in my gaze now there's a sight that starts a fire a silky, sleek, tooth-bared grin arched backs and wicked claws I give in, kitten, you win.

Darkness now and agony. A fire in my bones. I've dreamed a dream, a dream of death, not all of it my own. Too far gone to struggle, though he has me by the throat. Too weary now to answer, things I could not know. Eyes open to a demon, plain for all to see. Dark halo slipped down to his neck, burns him as he burns me. Into dust. Please, God, into dust.

The ghosts are out in force tonight yessir silent convergence on midnight yessir the closes and kirks are empty the foot of the mile is still the Holy Rood has taken to ground wraiths are gathering on the hill I sat in trembling wonder took a lashing from the rain saw strange twinkles shaping symbols searched for her in fever again Two bootfulls of mud a skinfull of water a head full of fire and two souls asunder breathing stalled, I seek one out among those milling on the crest who holds me in her gentle thrall though life has stilled within her chest how to tell one willed wisp from another? ane lost life from it's br

There was a silence there, and darkness, but no one was afraid Then a rustle bloomed in gloom, breath upon a young boy's face Tender grip laid on his wrist. Into his hand a box, a secret The secret tune, part lullabye, part love gentle and commanding Then the boy rose hands up, heart up, soul up. Deep into the dark They left his box, his shoes, his socks. For angels sing, and barefoot walk.

I love it when she smiles, so beautiful though its for him this bright eyed joy and admiration. not for me never for me. keep shadowed eyes in the smile spotlight. cold heart longing my bleeding tooth gnawing bubbles forth from still wine shame next day guilt morals intact

Whan ye neist see me come up tae me tell me that ye kuve me hate me miss me. That ye wad dee for the man ahint ye or kill tae be the wummin in front. Tell me acause I am an ootlin an expect naething fae ye, Tell me how ye dichtit yer een in fits o lauchter even though yer smile disna reach yer een. Tell me ye wiss she wisna gane an that yer Faither wis aye here, He wad mak awthing better by greetin wi ye I am an ootlin I dinna ken yer masques sae be yersel Leuk me i the ee syne kiss me spit at me smile syne punch me tak me i yer airms "Thanks, I wis needin that" "Nae bother," I reply Nae maitter how lichtly, forge

Aff the stair an intae the cauld hie waws an glaur unnerfit match pad an spang airtit tae wha kens whaur staunnin, bydin. Onie meinute noo like a tide it trickles syne fluids neives an fowk an flyers faw an it dings doon even hairder awthing sooped intae stanks left tae faw even hairder on the heids o the drookit an stick tae their buitheels. Backtreckin, speirin quaystions no needin airtit. Back tae wark, singin, leuk – we are beautiful

Cauld stane Caulder air the Burgh skinklin its lichts bydin on snaw. Nae dancers the nicht rubbin tae mak heat, jist the barmaid winkin an smilin as i coont oot her tip. "They say it's caulder here nor i Warsaw..." nae smile, she birls awa. Fuck it. I can sup ma Bushmills tastin Grouse an chemicals jalousin masel i film noir or Tam Waits lowpin brawly fae sauve tae prick. Nae dancers oniewey. Jist the auld wifie o the ceity. She'll haud me warm the nicht. Skinklin an cauld.

Cold stone Colder air the Burgh twinkling it's lights anticipation of snow. no dancers tonight rubbing to make heat, just the barmaid, winking and smiling as i count out her tip. "They say it's colder here than in Warsaw..." no smile, she bustles off. Fuck it. I can sip my bushmills tasting grouse and chemicals fancy myself in film noir or tom waits deftly crossing from suave to prick. no dancers anyway. Just the old lady of the city. She'll keep me warm tonight. twinkling and cold.

"I wish you would give it back to me." "Why? You'll just break it again." "It's my heart. I will do whatever the hell I want with it." "Yeah? Well, you take terrible care of things that are yours." "Fine. Keep it. I am equal parts concrete and soul anyway." "You say that, but I'm not entirely sure that you are. I think you're deep, and fragile and broken, and that makes you beautiful." "Again, concrete and soul. " "I wish you wouldn't make this so hard." "So hard? I'm making this easy. You gave me dreams of half feathered swans and a stupid house on an endless beach and a city made of an ocean, and now you're taking it all away. But a