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notes of laughter trickle through your black haired head like the sound of those wet shoes sloshing through a steam-clouded puddle on my street corner

cast-off wrappers read off hard rock anthems, their lyrics burning
back "hey shut up", i munch on my vinegar soaked hot dog, the taste of the nitric acid reminding me of those last summer days, their quiet images searing news flashes into my memory

"you're a star" hums off some street radio, and amidst the strobe-lighten waves of hands, a nearly drunk stream of jet fuel soaks the half-tired masses
©2004-2009 ~shulaces
:iconshulaces:

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Can't really explain

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:iconliquidmoonlight:
i like it a lot a lot a lot , nice job :D

--
purple with infection

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November 10, 2004
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