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moist the shaking
bold the line
bite the lip

a fat fusilade of falling
thick as ash
upon the lashes
the dark gloss locks
the town face blank
in shinning windows
an empty clock

turns the key
and winds the
coil bound
the trigger
a whirl
in the winded swirl
the pathway
they follow down
through the
like precious scars
like the world hidden
from the eyes of
the stars

for the creatures
we keep
and the best
we beast

Mettre la creme

Editing stage: 


I come to read you
how dare any one
not so do

those who understand you
may be minuscule
or run away cowards
unknowing what poetry is

I love scars...
but thats me
U know they raise cattle in the hills of no flies scar the hides
perfect leather for the interiors of
posh fast handbuilt motorcars
Like baby beef veal
suprised the wealthy dont eat
scars....I knew beautiful little
young women with a knife scar
on their face....two in all my matters..
to me it made them all the
more appealing...

and one special one with
nails by a lover raked on
her shoulder...second to
third layer...
like some get tatoos or
like many I know...they
hold the gun and give
themselves the tatoo!
etc....I could write chapters
which I do on other
sites where I write
heavier then this..

this place is rather tame
and i want to keep
the persona known
to all here as such...

these out there
writes I leave
such as these
...just part of
the characters
Ive met and know

cant make up
people like this...

My pack!

Thank U!

author comment

keep u alive
have so much more poetic fun
now read some

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