sitting here with partner in crime. Sitting=understatement. More knees and less shoulders. I can feel breathing over my shoulder. what is she going to type next? I don't know. I'm not god. although......
it was melodical in the dark lit basement of 1040 fifth street . The blanket my partner in crime was draped in had the look of uncooked dough. A croissant in the making? heavens not that expensive.
his hair puffed black in small strands jumping out from a buried face. when did the red/orange tint go shot? bang- light killed. As if by some tragic coincidence that still hung a slight twinge-of-guilt in the corners.
Is that the sound of Rats?
crawling invisible to danger on the Other side?
No- static from my speakers.
Harmony stands jealous from upstairs.
Melody won't let them in.
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