The Great American Romance

A view to kill, the pops in jaws still persist as beauty incarnate rises like the Japanese sun over this noon time scene. 

Her voice like to a house on fire rising this thick heart from agony, saving me.

Countless words flutter on wings that simply gust from on high the haze of the wine ferments better halves of the ghost of a good thing. 

The hauntings that replay nightly filter to cute afternoons, where cute Halloweens only kill with laughter while the night prowls feeling your mouth on mine shaving off the light years. 

Her form against the wall in twisted motion dangling in pirouettes that shuffles hours into moments of passion and intensity that salivates in this night time scene colorful lobotomies carved out into plastic dishes in a public bathroom such la bohemian rhapsody. 

Danger three degrees from anger finish their shift punching out lights of the new year that perch in the winter panoramic breath from lungs that don't exist, brains spill out on the sidewalk down roads unknown. 

Frost on the horizon, tin men march in single file.

Shame soaks the morning sky.

 This plan crash rewinds, and cuts on scene.

You're saving me.