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On Monday The condom sat limply on the kerb by the road. It was beige and full. A headless packet lingered close by. Was it love at first sight.
The pieces of a crumbling ruin. Tumbling down to a field of grass. Pebbles and rocks, a shadow of hail. Splintered wood and shattered glass. A gradual collapse of weathered walls.
It stank of all things putrid; life, decaying. My sunken feet disintegrating in gluke -their deafening vile life forms gnawing into flesh, hammering away.
The sole lifts up, swings, and scuffs the cement. Swinging laces, knotted, with ends frayed. Leather dry, cracked and faded, flexing and stretching with every movement. Another lift, swing and...
It stank of all things putrid; life, decaying. My sunken feet disintegrating in gluke -their deafening vile life forms gnawing into flesh, hammering away.
She stared at me again today. The moment I entered the grimy little shop I felt that claustrophobic countenance rippling over my person.
Is flickering pixelated images of you. My Butterfly Compass. Is moist. Dripping lizard-like corals of saliva for you. My Butterfly Compass. Is impregnated. Virally infected with diagrams of you.
Septic green mould grows. Edges of scraped bone shows. Black around the nail. Skin peeling away. More and more everyday. Soon to die. No will cry. Their already dead. To much skin they shed.
Derelict and dishevelled, Crumbling and abandoned, Alone against the wind, rain and sun, Stands the old house. Ivy crawls deftly up the body of the house, Tightening it's grip, it's influence.
In a Kingdom so well built and fair, The streets filled and the dungeons bare. Were the houses were made from the finest stone, By hardy people, sweat, blood and bone.
Mr Snuggles, was once the loveliest cute teddy bear, He loved been tickled, and cuddled, just about everywhere, But one day cloudy day, his eye popped out, There was nothing that they could do...