Milk and gas

The Nazi lamp Lazarus rubbed herself like Vim around twelve day footprints facing towards 'the other'. Hair crowded her temples once worshipped by quill, written on two spines, one falling apart one almost complete. She scrubbed away his footprints finding her Fathers face, Wolves stood up to the moon She stood up to the stove embracing gas like a Nazi before she died where he walked Milk was poured in a half empty glass for half empty children.