Tender pockets of flesh, imagine.
Freezing moon rising, through dog breath.
Secretly, tongues lick under asphalt entice new exits.
No help wanted, are sidewalks warmed by the feet of passers bye.
Cold laps cradle Laptops like children , who's realities hover above in potential.
Engineers seeking to be born again, experiment on the death of cellphones, so others can live.
Not yesterday but today everything is obedient to its own gravity, the spit of old gunfighters is sentient.
Legions of aged cripple children spread detested memories immersed in the smell of tainted glory.
Theirs is the gossip of volcanic sanity, below the caldron has no mother or father, no god, no mercy.
But out side the sun is bright and warm, families are loading laughing children for a trip to the beach where underfoot the sand is washed clean.