The Horses Blog

Thick gasoline stink
the shed full of dirty air,
smoke struggling to become flame
skin blistering too slowly
outside they play horseshoes and drink ale
in here
an empty light socket collects webs
and memories.
See them screaming,
they knew he was too old
to be alone,
see them again,
while kicking an anthill
near an old wooden bench
in the corner,
iron tools clutter the walls,
you have had enough
you strike a match and
kill the past.
nekochi666- I'd rather you comment on my soiled pants.
SepticTank- Your gripping too tightly.
You're-
You are.
Crackhead- Thanks for the riveting update.