The night sky resembles a backlit canopy, with holes punched in it... Just about the only beautiful sight these streets have to offer. The alleyway is cold. Dark... Overflowing dustbins stand as silent, rusted robot sentinels; gatekeepers to my abyss. Not a single door remains unlocked, not a single shutter unshuttered. Merciless. And still... I lie here, left forgotten in a pool of my own blood, the nightlights on windowsills like eyes, watching me. My ragged breath forms swirls of mist, dancing upwards and fading, beckoning me skywards. Pulling me. Strangling me. Death comes in an instant. The night sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it.
Last thoughts of
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by BennybonsoirOn Nov 4 1:15 PMLast login November 4
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