He stashed sheaths of granite behind porus walls,
or so he said.
Within the hurricane sky, flesh canvasses collect dust,
on their existence.
They create lifeless shadows that mimic the movement,
of these so called Loquacious-Lovers.
And in an instant, the Tarantula dance grapples across,
The Window Sill.

Boy: "Let's leave love at the doorstep just his once."

Girl: "Let's listen lustfully to the songs of the city."

In a Limbless masquerade, pulse scholars implant pulses,
into their lives
The Gemini lunges from skyscraper to skyscraper,
and to particular lacklusters.
Across horizons drapped in chalk outlines,
and silicone spider webbing
To find their two minds surviving inside a similie.

We are the hungry forty children
As we laugh in the face of convention
We've hired Arachnid doctors
To glide violently across our window panes.

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