lily

nights like this seem apocolyptic. My tragedy song haunts incessantly. Bill used to tell me i was in love with tragedy, With pictures of aids victims in uganda glued to the ceiling. we would fall asleep memorizing their faces so that even our dreams would be infected. If i could, i'd make a collage of the bones of this city. I think her heart has disintegrated. sometimes if you squint hard enough you catch glitter on her sidewalks that takes you to places lost where her heart still pumped full of blood giving raging birth. Reminds me of my boy Hollywood, my southern star dust was a one man mafia with that hand gun that only took one life in the end and that was his own. I imagine him still playing guitar in heaven and shooting dope in gods bathroom. It gets hard to reminisce when the moment suffocates. 1:26 am in the womb of this city. Keep watching for the glitter.
Love, Lily