The twilight is like a whore's blue eye shadow with
its liquid tongue licking down through the smelly fog
rancid with last night's liquor bottles turned inside
out and emptied with last night's trash, reeking
with the stale ashtrays of neglected cigars and
foreign cigarettes – mmmmmm so cool. The shadow
created by this merry concoction of whoresome
blue wonder swirls in bitter embankments and
forlorn misguided and unrolled misgivings of
another gift ungiven. The twilight mixes with the
flaccid dawn in a furtive affair involved with the
mystery of a new moon.
1.27.09
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