01-21-2014, 08:02 PM
edit 2 Thanks 71degrees and Dinosta
Starbucks on Sunday afternoon
She wears a ring of round cigarette burns
and three-quarter-sleeves:
a red bracelet baring her state.
Chatter, tinks and samba swirl
around two empty café cups
as I crawl into her brain, a red-faced
deep-sea diver, exploring
crevices that surface in eruptions
of blood. Cuts turn to ruby
lips, spitting bitter tastes
to tiled ground: one mouthful less
for her to swallow. The bile spreads
under my chair, and trickles
out the door.
edit 2 Thanks trueenigma
Starbucks on Sunday afternoon
She wears a ring of round cigarette burns
and three-quarter-sleeves:
a red bracelet baring her state.
Chatter and silverware tinks swirl
as I crawl into her brain, a red-faced
deep-sea diver, exploring
crevices that surface in eruptions
of blood. Cuts turn to ruby
lips, spitting the bitter taste of hate
to the tiled ground. One mouthful less
for her to swallow. The bile spreads
under my chair, and trickles
out the door.
edit 1 Thanks to BedsideFungus, 71degrees, trueenigma, ellajam
At Starbucks on Sunday afternoon
She wears a ring of round cigarette burns
and three-quarter-sleeves:
a red bracelet baring her state.
Chatter and silverware tinks swirl unnoticed
as I crawl into her brain, a red-faced
deep-sea diver, exploring hidden
crevices that surface in eruptions
of blood. Cuts turn to ruby
lips, spitting the bitter taste of hate
to the tiled ground. One mouthful less
for her to swallow. The bile spreads
under my chair, and trickles
out the door.
original
Red lines crisscross brown hairs on her arm.
She wears a ring of round red cigarette burns
and three-quarter-sleeves—a bracelet
bearing to the world her current state of mind.
Chatter and samba swirl unnoticed in the air
as I crawl into her brain, a red-faced deep-sea diver,
in front of two Starbucks cups, empty for hours,
ensuring our right to the table. Lines turn to ruby lips,
spitting bitter tastes to the ground. The bile spreads
under my chair, and trickles out the door.
Starbucks on Sunday afternoon
She wears a ring of round cigarette burns
and three-quarter-sleeves:
a red bracelet baring her state.
Chatter, tinks and samba swirl
around two empty café cups
as I crawl into her brain, a red-faced
deep-sea diver, exploring
crevices that surface in eruptions
of blood. Cuts turn to ruby
lips, spitting bitter tastes
to tiled ground: one mouthful less
for her to swallow. The bile spreads
under my chair, and trickles
out the door.
edit 2 Thanks trueenigma
Starbucks on Sunday afternoon
She wears a ring of round cigarette burns
and three-quarter-sleeves:
a red bracelet baring her state.
Chatter and silverware tinks swirl
as I crawl into her brain, a red-faced
deep-sea diver, exploring
crevices that surface in eruptions
of blood. Cuts turn to ruby
lips, spitting the bitter taste of hate
to the tiled ground. One mouthful less
for her to swallow. The bile spreads
under my chair, and trickles
out the door.
edit 1 Thanks to BedsideFungus, 71degrees, trueenigma, ellajam
At Starbucks on Sunday afternoon
She wears a ring of round cigarette burns
and three-quarter-sleeves:
a red bracelet baring her state.
Chatter and silverware tinks swirl unnoticed
as I crawl into her brain, a red-faced
deep-sea diver, exploring hidden
crevices that surface in eruptions
of blood. Cuts turn to ruby
lips, spitting the bitter taste of hate
to the tiled ground. One mouthful less
for her to swallow. The bile spreads
under my chair, and trickles
out the door.
original
Red lines crisscross brown hairs on her arm.
She wears a ring of round red cigarette burns
and three-quarter-sleeves—a bracelet
bearing to the world her current state of mind.
Chatter and samba swirl unnoticed in the air
as I crawl into her brain, a red-faced deep-sea diver,
in front of two Starbucks cups, empty for hours,
ensuring our right to the table. Lines turn to ruby lips,
spitting bitter tastes to the ground. The bile spreads
under my chair, and trickles out the door.
_______________________________________
The howling beast is back.
The howling beast is back.

