An angel with broken wings, and dreams of a paradise no longer existing, bathed in a harsh glow of a streetlight cutting through the blue night. Beautiful in its sadness.



Unbeknownst to her, the city was slowly sucking her soul out and locking it with her heart in a cage of iron bars. Soon she would be like the rest of them, zombies, mere shadows of their former selves, that walked on the streets beneath her window. The city was sucking her soul out and though she tried to fight it, it had been going on much too long before se realized, and the city was winning.



A silk rose on a public restroom sink. Last witness, last testament to the night now fading with the start. Frozen forever closed up tight, the synthetic bud lies, forgotten.



This ain’t a forgivin’ town, kid. They don’t like change neither. Now I’m not saying they won’t snatch up new gadgets and such soon as they come out. Naw, they’re as trendy as anyone. No real change, though. Nope, nuttin’ changes. Always ya gotta be just so, or yill be in fer trouble. Whatever they deem ta be right, that’s what you’d better be, ‘else they’ll give ya hell.



She sits alone and watches the silent ships that pass in the night while all around her in the dark the dancers swirl and twirl and are oblivious to everything. She can feel the air move when the pass, and hear the furious slapping of their feet, and smell the sweat that no doubt glistens over their bodies, and almost taste their passion in the air, but she cannot see them. She sees only those ships, passing silently in the night, going to nowhere, coming from nowhere, passing seen by no one save her, the only one who has not joined the dance.



toasting the dawn with red bug juice and tears in the corners of our eyes