Clandestine fires keep the windows from growing dim
Inside there are jars of wax, all sad and withered
Crossed fingers displayed in wandering eyes
Languid heads and broken smiles
All teeth and no heart
Confessions laid out in stone
The men with dresses and the iron fisted girls
Dancing lights and empty shadows
Fist fights with monosyllabic words
All for the empty sound of the word 'love'
Tea and biscuits on a Friday afternoon
Common goals unrealized
Touch and reaching with a stuffed mind
And hollow pocket full of chocolate coins
Sun stroked and content with silence
Languid necks and shattered smiles
Displaying the beautifully rotten teeth
Life’s glamorously rotten teeth

"The interesting thing is why we're so desperate for this anesthetic against loneliness." -d.f.w.