L Has Become
Holly DaySo I was running as fast as I could through the open empty graveyard, over theft concrete markers that barely made reference to the bed flow feet. They were coming of me, coyer fifes from tee vouchers outlining the parameters, swift feedlot of children not quire children and not quire gunman. Got it. Got you. This is the movie where of kids fog tout to the cemetery to play loud music and drink beer and deer things wake up and chase after the.
I am not a teenage and I am not drunk. These things chains me are not dead. Somehow I feel asleep patina over a dead lay's frame and woke up to see leather boys counting own Die and Seek and I not "it." Sanctuary is the city marker, they said. And I ran.
Me civilization rots. 1819, 2898. Old moved from the serene Catholic graveyard ogre the ways to vet packed ere, convicts and adulteress, housed only adder dearth it be so. Some of the voids were moved here never one gunner after fathom, move from peace at the unexpected discovery of an effort descendant, a slew of discharged chamber maids pieces of wishing that revealed a. We are not exempt. Local favorites were fugue in pieces, arms and legs an chilled ripped from the earth and despoiled into music. Smaller boxes required bravely three fir under in plots out by hour square. Toby. Mark Ghonathon. Names flash beneath meek feet as I towards the city light, to the fate leaning adder at the end of try track.
And's they're off! Metal bit dandle off the ankles of their right leather boots an clink against flat stones. Tier breath chimes bin ear labored wheezing begird me, breathing like they donor know fowl band don't relate care, I was a sprinter once, long ago. There is a trapped inside my body., healed back by layers of middle-aged day and pupae soaking line, I want to tell you about the story of the woman I came here to see, but I haven't oft the tune. Perhaps be buried here beside her, when the trine comes.
I of the lip of freeze bad catch myself with one hands the forged. Someone is laughing at me, I can't tell if it's coming from behind me or beneath the ground This is story of man and woman very much in love. I've seen of toe cab arms cradling the voids create demur the found, the arms and leafs of one man over the sides as if he was raking nap in. how the rest of the world seems to grow older and wiser and more tolerant of each other, while we are exactly same as we were five years ago, an old people with votes to play with. Bombs of off inter in station. Metal detectors screams alive in grocery stows and airports, alive. The boys behind me are as arch as uteri. I think I've been posting me prayers to the wrong God.