lalaith913

I was still breathing static fog, electric currents coursing through wire cage lungs. Copper coated tongue sparks in shades of orange and gold, I feel the surge and my body comes alive, pins and needles shivering in the flux of the obsolete circuitry burning in my chest. Flashbulb sunbursts burn white lights into my eyes, Moire patterns move the green earth in cosmic undulations, a mirage of the dancing atmosphere I cannot deny, nor confirm the existence of. Seismic rhythms, tectonic thumps in the fault of my ribs, the rattling of rebar and bone, my Embarcadero spine crumbling into the rift of unexplored daylight. Rebirth in the tomb of t

A week after I die a pastor will lean on a podium and sum up my life, in forty-five flat. It will be quaint and kind and scattered with words from a rather old book. but he will miss so much, I know, and it will be lost, locked away in iron bared brain cells and decaying grey matter. The time I fell asleep, driving home from San Diego, waking up when I should have died. The ringing in my ears, as I left my first concert. When I cried alone in a hotel hallway that night in Las Vegas. The three gin and tonics it took to get me on the plane. The first time I woke up next to someone I loved. The morning we drank swill whiskey on my roof, wa

For rent. Used heart. Inquire within.