Stacking Chairs

Scampering and vengeful are the smokey wisp people... threes follow fours, in the original order. The signal fires were lit and the sirens wailed, but Richard and Diana had other plans... with the hallways empty due to the clogging thoughts. Richard with his doubtful smile and cracked fingernails... Diana with her curls and mustache, the smoke swirls in the stale air. Billows made my pillows, and the two wrapped in fiendish delights... paid with pockets full of sweat. The hands whisper louder in the dark... seven times with baptized flowers, the milk turns to rot. One tooth behind the other, gnashing until they crumble under the sweat of another brow... sticky, bitter sweat filled with the desires of flesh and gluttony. It will bleed less tomorrow, they promise in unison... but the sting and stains remain.