Feral swings
Somebody wore the whole nightclub outfit into the woods and started climbing trees.
It's all black, a cut out top over high waisted micro shorts and sheer tights, out in a scrubby field ringed with cypress.
Heavy cognac boots, buckled to the knee, dig into the grass. Somewhere on a swing rigged from red straps and a log, the tights ladder and tear
90s indie sleaze gone feral and glamour dragged through the dirt and better for the wreck.
