Sunday 4/21/2019 11:18:00 PM

the valley tore. the hill choked. we weren't lost, but we didn't know where we were going. it was an accident. everything is.

a maze of skin solving for bone.

the wind never tires, but we do. accumulating  distance. our bodies catapults. as the war inside continues. it's bankruptcy. these faltering muscles. mapping their empty roads.

we named each raindrop. we convinced the storm. that the flood was unexpected. that drowning had made us strong.

we shifted inside our shallow narrative. content to let the wolf devour the pigs. 

we stood in the doorway. unconvinced of what wait inside. we watched the candies melt. the wood go rotten. as our humanity pursed its lips. and we let ourselves forget the taste of hunger.

still we crossed its bridge. we peered into its windows. ambivalent thieves. unsure of what to steal.

4/14/2019 11:33:00 PM

the end broke. all dust and coils. like the last bullet in a centuries old war. the paper held. though the wind was fierce. we crawled inside our stories and pretended the everything was as small as we had always felt.

we spent our bridges on condoms and mouthwash.sick. with the idea of needing anyone else.

it's the horizon that confounds. the deceit of perspective. we can't see anything other than ourselves. the burden of our want.

the lines run thin and frantic. as they stretch to touch tomorrow. a hopscotch of flesh. to occupy the monsters below the surface.

we're small in gravity's shadow. we're lost in time's boast.

4/07/2019 11:24:00 PM

we gambled the sun. on wooden bridges and missing magicians. the illusion broke. the distance loud. as we listened for home. paper salamanders chasing plastic worms. in the spaces where we left the words out.

answers came and went. none of them stuck.

our voices melting ice. our fingers fraying ropes. as gravity yawned. and we fell softly. into the meat of the storm. arrogant with skin to barter. convinced of its wealth.

we ran to the music of want. stabbing at time with blunt knives.

we sold the math. still feeding trust's empty engine. long after it had died.

Tuesday 3/26/2019 11:56:00 PM

the years bit down.
sharp fangs in tender bones.
we hung onto the math.
surviving on the persistence of skin.

the resilient stretch.
the hungry spoil.
the defeated give.
as it bends and tears
to finally let us in.

the windows shudder.
moan. with the mercies of the sun.
the hill swallows us.
in gravity's massive fist.

we were small once.
delicate. until we grew into our grief.
slender stalks crippled
by the weight of expectation..

the end was quiet.
as our time machine broke down.
the highway was dark.
as we pretended to know
where we had been.

knots in the thread.
cages left open.
prisons we wish
we'd never left.

Thursday 3/21/2019 11:44:00 PM

name the sun. in colors and catapults. wear the wind. in poetry and infections. the world chokes. on voices. and skin. and wanting. a jagged page ripped from a tragic story. a miniscule truth lost in an ocean of grief.

the doll dances in scuffed shoes. in torn skirts. to music that seldom plays. still she hears it. long after the silence has overtaken.

the folded map. the puzzle of skin proliferating. coins in a fountain. needles in haystacks. everyone looking. for things that don't want to be found.

the slope of her skin indicating. the shape of her surrender.

we suffer. the epiphany of our embrace. the sour math. of things just out of reach.

we pull on the knots. wondering. willl they tighten or come undone. afraid to know the difference.

Tuesday 3/12/2019 11:45:00 PM

we fell behind. the miles cut too deep. razors in our breath. and lead in our feet.

time betrayed. such is its nature. the pendulum broke. we ran, but we were much too slow. choice's maze tore threw us. until every direction was mapped in grief. the taste of the edge sweet and sour as we swallowed our mistakes.

still we remained confident as the distance bore down to measure us. even as we sunk. we assumed the surface would reappear.

slender needles. thinner threads. the incredulous magicians that work their illusions inside our heads. we bit the wind. we stabbed the sun. as everything around us became more real than we had ever been.

the path. all stilted footprints. the blood more stain than red. the lie more truthful than we care to admit.

the bottom changes. but eventually it finds us.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2018. All Rights Reserved.