Atomic-kitteh

Sweet smelling roses cover rotting earth. Plump baby smiles stem from crucifying birth. Clean white cloth covers crimson wounds. A beautiful mother carries death in her womb. Death grows and waits for life-gaining birth. To kill all the love and ruin the earth.

Wisps of fire The barman barged out into the night.  It's the same complaint again.   'Why don't you take your crate and pollute a different bar with your shitty folk music?  I've had just about all the wailing I can handle for a lifetime.'  The barman shook his fist at the busker sitting next to his bar, veins bulging under the rolled up sleeve.  The streetlamp making their shadows twitch against the wall. Bryan, settling his weathered guitar in his lap, lifts his hand to wipe the sweat off his brow. 'I'm sorry that you don't like my music, but this is a good spot.  I've almost made enough cash to buy some dinner.  I'll be out of your