I had a lot of extra time at work today since we were moving, so I wrote out a little piece that I've since expanded on during my wait time on my train ride home. I like this one a lot and I think I might be able to expand it even more.
Of off colour fantasies of unchecked reasons for these findings in a powerful and eyebrowed clown stare. Her eyes, the shade of a soothing vomit that escapes convulsion on its way out. Lips like a cherry, pop the firework and let it fold out after you stare off into the distance. A thousand yard stare to caress breasts like the feeble afterlife of a decomposed abortion. Her hair is the blond of rapist desires and teh skin below is as soft as the final kiss from the bringer to the victim, violence's daughter, the end result. A pair of legs that tuck finely away in case one needs extra space. Trunks of cars, valleys and fields of a mind throttled by discordant fantasies of the time before as the spores of the mushroom grow and the pores of what's dead rots and that shimmer of temptation atop, blonde, grows.
They made me sit in chairs and rows, and the days upon where her beauty arises I shall shed a work worthy tear of thrice forgotten, I will go back and put flowers on her coffin. It's a love I can't know, a dream I can't be seen in.
Further than you may have gone before, a place that I will not yet move to ignore, and lastly, as I fall on unwanted proofs and shade my way under the table. The shadows line in stripes and the king lays hold for none. I've had my stay in the padded jungle, I'm lost as to the reason.
After the fact my age will have shown me what my youth was like as I watch it drain from my body, years in time will leave me with skin stuck on liquid bones. My days will be gone, but I will remember...
The days of that dark December will remind me of her small eyes, her final stares, her final cries.
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Studies show that when a given norm is changed in the face of the unchanging, the remaining contradictions will parallel the truth.
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