porch light on, the roof beam songs as you walk through the
attic, catch the dust in your lungs with the silence in static,
creak the maple of the structureless petition,
sleep in your bed moonlighting rust in the heart of a
daytime russian talk show host, fluent in the desperate acts of
broadcasting antique sentimental shower less smiley faces,
turn the tears of the viewers into cheers and produce the
musk of the sewers into the newest popular cologne,
lay bricks with toothpaste and bristle the yellow belly cowards
into productive stay at home lovers. re populate the homeless with
briefcases full of blueprints to the underground tunnels,
show them how to work the street lights to grip tight the controller and
never sleep at night. something turn of the century about it all,
water paints someones cityscape and blood anothers.
the key to happiness is a bridal shower,
churn the youth inside the womb to emotionless lying
flowers, wrap them in ribbons, congratulation cards, smoke cigars,
the mayor knows the secrets, the keys to emptiness,
to complete oblivion,
inside a confessional someone says sorry for hitting their kitten,
someone stubs their toe on the altar,
somewhere someone is forgiven.
I never have anything constructive to say to any of your pieces anymore. I keep find myself digging deeper and deeper a hole of shallow suggestions to find something to tell you that will constitute a critique.

Great stuff here.
Today I feel electric grey
I hope tomorrow, neon black
This is a lot different than what you usually write. It seems much more... compacted, especially with the internal rhyme and the constant shuffling of subject. It's more developed than the usual narration-type sensory sort of things you write. I prefer your usual, but it's good, and it shows that you've put a lot of thought into it. Flow was great, and as usual your images are just... alive.

very precise
good shit.
Quote by Arthur Curry
it's official, vintage x metal is the saving grace of this board and/or the antichrist

e-married to
& alaskan_ninja