monuments to my missing memories litter the streets of an abandoned bedroom city. i am a cardboard cutout dug out of a photo box, yellowing and faded. blown like a candy wrapper up and down the alley-ways, chased by countless other shaded, swirling whirling silhouettes. it's cold as death the moon is painted upon the plaster sky tonight. i ride on a breath the wind is a slow soft exhale breathed from her mouth tonight. i'm chilled and afraid my heart is a pasted paper scrap on my glossy chest tonight its beats sound like crinkling leaves. autumn is honestly opening my scotch-taped eyes tonight. and that's alright with me. i'm only part of a crumbling effigy. yeah, that's fine with me. i'd rather be here than under her blankets, but see? this roaming refuse carries my face back to her lips she breathes. inhaling my fear-stricken, bent, sick and sinful sorrow, tomorrow i'll pass through her blood.