City of dreamy lights ocean blues palette makeup looks

 I've got that Friday night fever

Town of papers drifting between the oceans, where titans in slow motion press steel down and mist streams from a gasping mouths above the pavement; frozen city, city of honey blood locking a thousand lives in a droplet.

A city of living flesh, where the avenues are filled with creatures and the gutters are bleeding streams, where the ribs soar above the rivers and the organs glisten;

a metropolis where even the smallest decision or lack thereof fuels a hundred men with vodka and daggers.

People who ride like ponies to the fence of a romance, the sanctuary of a leg, the waterhole where the birdlike mates in reflections, and other places in the city of art where their fingers learn to twist and shatter painlessly.

The inhabitants of the town of signs desire to belong to all people and everywhere, but they are happy to live in that same district.

City of stones, where seeds drifting in from the countryside fill dry nostrils with optimism and a blade of grass breaking through asphalt or brick turns solid into winter.

City of cables, whose illumination bloom at dusk, where even the apathetic and cold can live hot on the emotions, seizing the inner electricity of urban life like a power line, then breathing fire till their lips flash.

City of glass, waves, tribes, masks, and neon parks and patios; carnival town, over which an invisible, somber power floats eternally.