She gave him two questions to answer.
Will you, or wont you. And stood. Solemnly and quietly. In her hand she had a book, and a brush. In the other, A knife and a pen. Icy cool smoke floated out of her mouth as she spoke. Chiffon slinking along the watered molecules of smoke.
The cold night sky muffles the city lights under frostbite’s vapoured cloak. Multi-coloured, neon-lit. Traffic rushes past his ears, the lights become mere flickers. A bus, three taxis, two pedestrians.
His face is rough from the cold. And he stares out into the thick, lapping river. Water beats onto concrete, a constant warping of sound.
A boat, a pier, the other side. He thinks.
Follow the mind. Follow the heart.
What I want
What I need.
And She sees that he is not sure and she smiles her scarlet smile.
Phantom tongue licks phantom lips.
Darkness shields sharpened teeth.
Her dry-iced, vapoured voice.
How easy can it be, to know any moment ,any time ,every breath and every test?
As we slide along these daily streets,
everyday rhythm, black shoes and pounding feet;
willyou/ wontyou / willyou/
What, is a word with a thousand years in every beat.
What anything, what nothing.
What everything.What ever and
what could ever,
Too many whats. Every one of us, a what.
What is that, what is she,
what am I.
What do I know.
What are we capable of?
Whatever we want.
And two busses, three cars, a red light.
Warping water and traffic hum.
The choice between heart and mind.
Reason and logic.
Never and ever.
Coming and going.
Winning and losing.
Living and dying.
Belief and disbelief.
Hope, and no hope.
And he stands before her. This angel of Babylon.
Pleasure and angst.
Truth to conspire.
that red, rosy apple.
The poisoned apple,
the golden apple,
the apple of beauty,
the apple of knowledge,
the green apple.
all over .
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