murder = white out.
|
cancer = birth blouse.
|
mirror = perfect glass spouse.
|
oil = sex paint.
|
shower = water saint.
|
Death decodes the howls from our hands.
|
skull = noise nest.
|
TV = fuck test.
|
mirror = siamese gun kiss.
|
sugar = birth bait.
|
murder = loves fate.
|
death distills the camouflage from our dance.
|
death inverts the red from romance.
|
Death x-rays the angels of chance.
|
death; the anti mirror of infants.
|
Like a picture hiding beneath the digital Avalanche.
|
When cecilia's grave cracked like a dirt cacoon,
|
she pulled up a stool at the silhouette saloon.
|
The player piano mumbling crippled jigs,
|
black widows knitting victimless wigs.
|
When cecilia's throat slit like a second set of lips
|
she drooled braille bibles onto the brothel bed spread,
|
like an egg whose yoke defies child bearing hips.
|
Like a ghost who fears all of the deceased and dead.
|
(time eats the flesh and spits out the shadow like a useless wishbone.)
|
But that locket spinning around her neck,
|
whose hearth heats a dead valentine,
|
you know the phantom trail leads way to a muted grave.
|
Where is his voice now?
|
A dead tone in the flutter of drunken wings,
|
Where is his blushed cheek now,
|
A face unraveled in shadow, veiled in blind laughter.
|
Where are those sex ripened lips,
|
his kiss print still warm on several necks.
|
Where is love now?
|
|
murder = white out.
|
cancer = birth blouse.
|
mirror = perfect glass spouse.
|
oil = sex paint.
|
shower = water saint.
|
Death decodes the howls from our hands.
|
skull = noise nest.
|
TV = fuck test.
|
mirror = siamese gun kiss.
|
sugar = birth bait.
|
murder = loves fate.
|
death distills the camouflage from our dance.
|
death inverts the red from romance.
|
Death x-rays the angels of chance.
|
death; the anti mirror of infants.
|
Like a picture hiding beneath the digital Avalanche.
|
|
-----------------
|
Cecilia And The Silhouette Saloon
|
| The Blood Brothers |
