Alt Cinema 9

I watched a man die on the concrete pad behind a house vining its own history in conversational ivy a few minutes after her mouths wet lace dried on my cock in a stained-glass pattern with the afterglow of effervescent violence. he fell handing me a dream and stared up flat with understanding that the blood pooling slick under his head was a permanent exit and I thought about breaking a rib with compressions but I thought about her curves profiled in the doorway silhouette across the street as I walked away.
his last breath spilled into my distraction
fucking a perfect face like my faith depended on it.