wrap my hands in cold

and cloth; let them tell

their own story.

three paths gone

two blocks found blind.

somethings you just arent.

I'll be the grave. 

No one alive here

is ever truly safe.

in the cold space

keeping their shape

is the place where

the dead truly lay.

heat

from all sides like the

breath of a lover in heat

i can feel it sleeping in

the bricks with its eyes 

on the sky, opening up

and showing itself as empty

no clouds and no sun

its feet settled into something

with a little too much

give for comfort; i reached

into the corners looking

around for a familiar surface

and found yesterdays 

alibi crying and crying

into the leaves leaving

darker streaks of green

in patterns only discernable

by the prophets bloodline.