the little darling was dead like an angelfish ballooning forth over a parade she drifted through the angular renderings (of her own beauty) the city alight with rows of burning beds the cries slung about in triumphant howls save for the quiet room (within his heart) he came from a regiment of naysayers to lock and key a borne pugilist gone soft like the wind in a series of tunnels until reaching a center where passengers awaiting a train suddenly dove from the platform in the approaching mass of steel
their secrets settling then into a fine crimson spray this train will not stop he said knowing that the monstrous black being was devouring its way to safety this rain will not stop and indeed it was raining everyone was drenched the graves were soaking in their latitudes and the freshest yet had been unearthed by the movements of the burrowing worms they raised her upon their shoulders and edged their way slowly through the bloody streets a pink glistening procession arising from the submergence their flesh slick by the moonlight above
the fingers were bleeding in town the hands on the clocks had been twisted away the dizziness increased he fell from the carousel hit the ground and awoke much later when the soil had covered so much of him that only his hands were visible those hands were now withdrawn have now been withdrawn the music had grown faint and all that was left was the sad sinking note at the end of the clef
hey you run away from him run away, run away from him any way, any way that you can cause he wants so to frighten you
hey your wide and lovely stare gave away what you did with him gave away in the clench of his fist and you want so to slit your rest in pieces while you can you'll fall to pieces when he touches you again your skin is also his