/lit/ - Literature

"We will all become old ladies with a fix for younger men."

Kilroy mops the grit up. Stacks the broom along the others.

"It's just is death is waiting's all. Moments. Nows and all we have. Goodnight."

Curtain's drawn and window's closed. Midnight morning. Dust his coattails, see the cabbie in a mirror. Ask the god in earthly orphans for a fare to home.

The light's to closing with the rickets on a door. Seven mothers on a street block pay their dues as earthly gardens. All the ferris bulbs are burned. There's only text in mud and vile on its rafters, rudeboy uglies, ruddy bottoms of an earthly sin go crown the heads of all her daughters.

>>2689852

On the Hills
Nesterov, Mikhail