5 inch Hall

Shawls hang in place of curtains in the way of broken windows

Shedding out darknessBut doing nothing to keep in the light

Flavor of gingerbread children still thick on my tongue, long taste buds cling to every last scrap of you.

You my yellow brick road to some false idol that I tango towards, some how unashamed of the tears on my jeans in such an elegant place.

Paranoid creations solidified and destructive on a level creating lies to save yourself from past mistakes.

Nervous shuffling of feet, inpatient in the lack of intellectual stimuli.

Yes the heart can hallucinate when starved of all connections and life can fade away when we no long entangle our selves.

In a world where we are afraid of touch and glance and words. Where cockroach and cockerel become roach and rooster because we cannot bring ourselves to say “cock”

Orange rain clouds may only be hers but my cupid bow lips get to lose them selves in the shadows that nestle in the hallows of his cheeks…as if in love with them.

A shattered manubrium would break my entire comic book papered rib cage so entangled that perhaps, one day, feathers will sprout from my angel bones and I will finally travel

That five inch hall