Monday 12/22/2014 12:29:00 AM

the intrepid spiral. the steadfast vacuum. all the letters. all the numbers. the chaos. the weep. cold skin. warm lips. intimacy's melted wax. the flame nearly dead.

the distance in whispers. the closeness in screams.

her voice is broken. her resolve is fixed.

the time machine sputters. the science chokes. on too much biology.

the moment cuts. the wound opens. such is the cycle of skin.

the pain is indexed. catalogued and exposed. more art than emotion.

the steps. the perfect contrition. as the frailty finds its first words.

the thinner threads. the bigger holes. time is a bridge. a beautiful panic of footsteps defying the void. a naked monarch in a kingdom of robes.

Wednesday 12/17/2014 12:09:00 AM

time's lingering frostbite. the bitter certainty in the cyclical void. quiet songs make their choices from among seldom hellos.  it's the horizon she says. with its scowling eyes. that makes me feel so small and everything seem so far away.

it's all seeds. they sprout. they grow. they die. we gather. we forget. we are taken, spent and used. a gorgeous suicide.

she doesn't know. never has. the hours come. like bits of glass digging into her thoughts. there's no blood. just waiting. for the ache to breathe.

it's all chemicals. we crave. we love. we are broken. a captivating cycle of destruction.

the angle is obtuse. the path is brief. there is very little story. and far too much tragedy.

the reaction is in the meeting. the suffering is in the chemistry.

she looks for something to hold. the atoms or the molecule. but everything is huge.

she waits for someone to know.

she's still waiting.

Friday 12/12/2014 12:28:00 AM

life arrives in templates. selections small enough to confront. she measures time in broken watches and thick rubber bands. those voices carry. those kingdoms are vacant.

creases in the moment. i always trip over. less is more. so they say. but i don't get the math. the nebula. the tired construct. that we are finding places that have always been there.

the battered dolls. their scratches faces still smiling. their nake torsos grinning.

the cold follows us. a persistant shadow. more hunger than anything.

there were voices. empty songs. she would let play. because they once meant something. there were intersections. vertices. the geometry of the soul. in bouts of long division.

i tried to remember how it felt. struggled to forget how warm it was. she was mine briefly. but then she was lsot. vanished like snow flurries in early december.

12/05/2014 12:08:00 AM

waiting. the cumulative paradox. there are always tangents. it's the nature of choice. the mediocrity of freedom. 

wearing the moment recklessly. bargaining with the monsters. stealing the story from lazy predators.

the folds collapsing. the shapes defiant. paper skin redolent of missing ink. as the hours continue their quiet bleeding.

the sound of resistance conceding.

you spend so much time at the edge that you begin to think gravity is only a suggestion. that falling isn't real.

you wander so far off course you begin to doubt that there was ever a map. that you've never been anywhere.

i think that the world ends mute. all choked up and self involved. a tedious orgasm that never fully pays off. i think that the world ends with soft words and loud pictures. an arrogant eruption of nothing in a echo of listening.

because the world is like us. we are like it. stones trying to count the thunder. pebbles arguing with the ocean. villains more savior than threat. 

humanity has a way of making every crime into a discovery.

the winter tells those same stories differently than the summer did.

the voice in her head. her truth. chalk wrestling the wind.

her voice. the tedious devils. the inadequate angels. the paradox of flesh coming undone. 

ample fever amongst these eager diseases.

lost amongst the confessions of failing gods.

the poet. the writer. the addict. everything in collision. their ample confluence. depleted needles still deep in the vein.

the sharp spoil of the vaccine. as she maligns the absence of the infection.

the time machine in her flesh as lost as she is.

she's waiting for the rain to stop. she's been waiting such a long time.

she's willing to wait a little while

Tuesday 12/02/2014 12:35:00 AM

the black holes moan. the loose seams wince. her chaos of serendipity caught up in betrayal mode.

smiling poisons. calculate the angles. a ledger of skin. an accounting of choices. causality in small stones. the surface easily broken.

frowning saviors. their depths untold.

patterns. cuts and bruises. a brief history of sober. for sale, though its without a price.

Thursday 11/27/2014 12:00:00 AM

the angles fussed. all talcum powder and feces. the physics shrugged. bored with gravity. its only choices. ambivalent atoms at the center of the storm. it's just paper. quiet songs and soda pop. turning little girls into women.

she walked. the road curious. her steps.villainous. the distance spoiling. like flowers cut. she waited. at the red light. picked fruit. fallen leaves. the courtesy of the wind. pretending change remembers us.

her purple tongue. an immaculate poison. her weakness ripe and succulent. 

she looked for the road. wrinkles in the map. louder than the void.

the structure of lost. all salt and vinegar. the architecture of want. small pebbles in deep water.

| Alcoholic Poet Home | Older Poems

| Sad Poems |

copyright 2005-2014. all rights reserved.