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We held hands on the last night on earth.
Our mouths filled with dust,
we kissed in the fields and under trees,
screaming like dogs,
bleeding dark into the leaves.
It was empty on the edge of town but we knew
everyone floated along the bottom of the river.
So we walked through the waste
where the road curved into the sea
and the shattered seasons lay,
and the bitter smell of burning was on you like a disease.
In our cancer of passion you said, "Death is a midnight runner."
The sky had come crashing down like the news of an intimate suicide. We picked up the shards and formed them into shapes of stars
that wore like an antique wedding dress.
The echoes of the past broke the hearts of the unborn
as the ferris wheel silently slowed to a stop.
The few insects skittered away in hopes of a better pastime.
I kissed you at the apex of the maelstrom
and asked if you would accompany in a quick fall,
but you made me realize that my ticket wasn't good for two.
I rode alone.
You said, "The cinders are falling like snow."
There is poetry in despair,
and we sang with unrivaled beauty,
bitter elegies of savagery and eloquence.
Of blue and grey.
Strange, we ran down desparate streets
and carved our names in the flesh of the city.
The sun has stagnated
somewhere beyond the rim of the horizon
and the darkness is a mystery of curves and lines.
Still, we lay under the emptiness
and drifted slowly outward,
and somewhere in the wilderness
we found salvation
scratched into the earth
like a message.
~afi
some words may be off in the picture but i was playing it by ear at the time.
this was a happy pic when i originally drew it.
really.
it was.
Our mouths filled with dust,
we kissed in the fields and under trees,
screaming like dogs,
bleeding dark into the leaves.
It was empty on the edge of town but we knew
everyone floated along the bottom of the river.
So we walked through the waste
where the road curved into the sea
and the shattered seasons lay,
and the bitter smell of burning was on you like a disease.
In our cancer of passion you said, "Death is a midnight runner."
The sky had come crashing down like the news of an intimate suicide. We picked up the shards and formed them into shapes of stars
that wore like an antique wedding dress.
The echoes of the past broke the hearts of the unborn
as the ferris wheel silently slowed to a stop.
The few insects skittered away in hopes of a better pastime.
I kissed you at the apex of the maelstrom
and asked if you would accompany in a quick fall,
but you made me realize that my ticket wasn't good for two.
I rode alone.
You said, "The cinders are falling like snow."
There is poetry in despair,
and we sang with unrivaled beauty,
bitter elegies of savagery and eloquence.
Of blue and grey.
Strange, we ran down desparate streets
and carved our names in the flesh of the city.
The sun has stagnated
somewhere beyond the rim of the horizon
and the darkness is a mystery of curves and lines.
Still, we lay under the emptiness
and drifted slowly outward,
and somewhere in the wilderness
we found salvation
scratched into the earth
like a message.
~afi
some words may be off in the picture but i was playing it by ear at the time.
this was a happy pic when i originally drew it.
really.
it was.
Category Artwork (Digital) / Still Life
Species Vulpine (Other)
Size 995 x 1280px
File Size 145.3 kB
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