tiistai 7. toukokuuta 2013


She smoked on churchsteps and painted her eyes with ash
laughing she said:
"Don't make a dull boy out of Jack"

There are new constellations
drawn on the canvas of her back
a red tail of a shooting star
shockingly red against the trembling palm
cutting across the line of life
wavering and short on her tiny hand

We smoked on churchsteps
and threw stones at the passing hearses
singing :
"Ashes, ashes
we all fall down"

Filth dripping, rust smeared grin
all yellow teeth and cracking desert lips
raking splintered nails on abused skin
drawing roads across her thighs
direction changing on a whim
used up all the chances
to start unmarked again

There is nothings left to give
to such broken things

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Whisper your message to the waves, the echo will reach me.