city perfume.

the lover's state frozen to the bone,

iced pane nails frigidly fake scrap the

skin of a friend. but hypocrisy slips

through and barely managed to hold,

wraps a scarf around the neck that

filter through the life flying around you;

but scarves are not made of cruel naive

conceptional beings, nor do they suffocate

you; but these ones do. she calls it,

the city's perfume; lungs are choking, they

collapse inside the cadaver that shouldn't

be fighting for life but yet, you do.

and for once in a life time the paper peels

itself back an. the universe asks,

when does eternity turn into pleasantry?

but fate refuses humanity and one's willing

fears the crown that litters the bloody ground.

expectation in two words-easy: no answer,

reality, its in three but the last keeps silently.

so midnight crashes on the couch and

drinks are thrown down; light sways her hips

away and youth stumbles off after them;

only one left in the house to rearrange 

the mess and call it cleaning it. but instead,

you're suffocating on the city's perfume,

never will your organs accept it. damn it.