Here, in the underbelly
Of a smoke-smothered city
The moon is a God,
And the stars are
A blessing.
And the night breeds
Wicked, beautiful things.
And, here, in the underbelly,
The sinful come to play,
When the sky slates obsidian,
And the women bare no shame,
When their breathes mingle, sweet,
And the young blooded are brave.
Yet, here, in the underbelly
Where the cages hold no creatures,
There are words no one
Dares to breathe,
For when dawn suffocates
The darkness,
The silly little things
Are afraid.
YOU ARE READING
Gin in Teacups
Random"Oh down in Albion They're black and blue But we don't talk about that Are you from 'round here? How do you do? I'd like to talk about that Talk over Gin in teacups And leaves on the lawn Violence in bus stops And the pale thin girl with eyes forlor...
