in some unknown and pitch-black chasm of despair
the person he had seen on times square
what a beastly lover he must have made
with her dark green eyes and her upturned nose
she claimed to be eighteen and fooled him completely
with the glittering purple sheen of her lipstick
if you want to get rich overnight
with notes on that book about suicide
some laughing and pitch-black chasms of despair
an angel would hover over them
with their pale blue eyes and runny noses
and the angels would laugh and sigh
because they wanted to get rich overnight
and didn't want me around
making strange beastly noises
i was the person they had seen in times square
lurking outside the automat
caressing the world with my pale green eyes
and taking notes on the suicidal persons
running from their beastly demon lovers
who claimed to be eighteen and work for the police
but were only hanging out in times square
noticing all the pointless little things
in the flickering pitch-black chasms of despair
which finally affected even the hovering angels
"who gave you the right to laugh at me?"
he stayed away from the restaurant
sources: too late for tears, by roy huggins; escape, by ethel vance; vengeance is mine, by mickey spillane; kiss me, deadly, by mickey spillane; waltz into darkness, by cornell woolrich; city of night, by john rechy; the price of salt, by patricia highsmith; highsmith - a romance of the 1950s, by marijane meaker; the farther shore, by robert m coates; the beautiful room is empty, by edmund white; the dust of suns, by raymond roussel; the mountain lion, by jean stafford; boston adventure, by jean stafford
| 
