POZE GOTH
- Thread starter ox2
- Start date
Angels fly into my life flaping they wings... they leaving thou on pace, stamping their feet..
As if wanting to convince, that angels they never were, they hack of wings with axes; in pursed lips and screaming eyes enduring the pangs...
By urgently covering remaining sticking up bloody bits with sweater... they leave.
...as leave cloud of feathers and fluff, slowly descending into pools of coagulating blood; an imprints on the floor, slowly depriving redness... and closing doors.
I immerse my hands into pool of blood, picking less bloody feather with my thumb and forefinger.
drop drop drop
Theese feathers don’t know how to fly anymore...
I immerse my face.
I lick blood of neverhealing wounds.
I lick feet imprints of ones who left.
