A Little before Sunrise

A cabbie sits motionless- stiff like the steering wheel; an untagged leg stretches out from the backseat of an auto, tries to regulate the 5 AM traffic and resigns. And somewhere between the fine threads of civilization, the eye meets the extinct tribe of priests, eager to worship the sun with drops of sweet water- fresh off the kettle.

He rests his derriere on the colicky slab. He had to stop for the sake of his Father who arts in heaven. While sucking the venom from a drugged finger, the mangy mutt from the neighborhood approaches. At such close proximity, you can pickpocket the creature’s thoughts. It’s not much of a score, not enough to put any food on the table. Entangled in a spell, he hears the sound of ribs cracking…


Published by: flatlined84

A thinker outside the quarantine zone. The words on this blog will assault your senses, would make you curse in the holy name of Bard. If that's not enough, leave a piece of your mind in the comments section- the writer is on the dole and is always hungry.

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