thoracic spine meeting a wall
paling its time as moon-rays suck
sundry colors from each brick;
her hand touches moistened cement
printed with chalk outlines and trash.
dark alleyways scurry with stray cats
and are infested with disease ridden rats,
but still she finds comfort in shady silhouettes
discretely passing by crime-zoned memories.
she smokes a fractured rib, that her lips once kissed
when they were still covered by heat leaking skin.
don't acknowledge her, she seeks solitude
as the ghosts of then crowd her—inhaling another victim.
babe, she's a soul eater,
a demon with a stomach
full of still beat gravestones.
