The face is sad and soured by drink, lines worn in like canyons by disappointment, whistling wind from empty bottles and trash-strewn back alleys
Cold nights beat at sandstone skin glowing moonlit ‘neath an empty heaven, where tears are rivers quenching cracks of faces smashed tired
Imagine the sad woman’s bellow lonely lilting in neon hopeless sky, tears dripping inside backwards filling flushing emptiness