literature

the sky is dying.

Deviation Actions

Published: Aug 29, 2011

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Literature Text

_{he walked around with smoke in
his lungs and his fingers rolling beads
that scatter his wrists
with bones jutting out
like its part of his look
pale skin with blood flowing
between cocaine bones
that when broken
make a unique kind
of beautiful crunch
splintering right up the middle

he wasn't different
he was just arrogant falling in love
with girls with moles instead
of freckles and never once
calling them 'constellations'
or saying how delicately the
scattered her shoulders
instead he'd collect stray thoughts
and stuff them his pockets
like autumn leaves
no caring for the corners
that crumbled off

he told me that the clouds
weren't anything beautiful
and that they were to the sky
what the red spots that cover
our skin when we got chickenpox
as children are to us.
we shouldn't stare
and we certainly shouldn't
catch raindrops on our tongues
storm clouds are the skies bruises
and thunder is the sound
of the sky dying.}