The night is carnivorous near Alta Vista, bone-white and skinny vampires running like cheetah on the rain-slick city streets. A pack ripping apart an old black lady, curious eyes watch the surgical dismemberment from foggy windows splattered with bird shit.
Mostly cloudy with stolen horses, empty botanical gardens, people in borrowed machines, demons in an orgy at the park, the inhuman howls of ecstasy and lemony pleasure, pain and intimacy. I am about to break my fancy pen, Poe would say it's weak and weary, shining angels in Father's sky watching over the angry cemeteries.