Friday, November 1, 2013

Breath. Blood. Broken.

Breath. Breath mixes with cigarette and rises from wet 
to cut the light that's left on a cold Autumn eve. 
Blood. Blood spits quixotically through the city's dilated arteries, 
coagulating where the wounded breathe. 
Broken. Broken minds laid open in the street like ants under 
feet their numbers make them mean less.

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