Tuesday 7/18/2006 12:49:00 AM

Strutting in the pitch black. Thinking I knew where it would lead. There was leather in every embrace. Stiff with the lives undressed.

Browsing the aisles. Shopping for my grief. Sales at every turn. Ammonia in their breath with every gasp I coaxed from underneath weighted skins. So many islands on their way to the other side of land.

I'm tired of daring the words to write me. It's time for some truth.

There are hours they've never seen. Lanterns masturbating to the chirp of the darkness. Fingers draw their maps inside my empty carcass. The chemicals in my brain throw their rocks.

Breaking all the windows in this haunted house.

As it looms from behind its pointed metal fence. Daring visitors indict its yawning mouth.

Nothing happened. Except sex. Closing my eyes so as not to see the act of myself being entered. The crocodiles in the moat still sleeping as that drawbridge finally came down.

All the uselessness in our gyrations. Animals lost in the fur we were shedding.

There was nothing left to love except myself. But I still didn't know how.

He tried to show me. I just didn't understand why.

1 comments:
RetMarut said...

Your poems are sure sad but they're sure true. Like your blog design too. I'm going to list you at Writersnetwork.blogspot so more people can see how sad and beautiful you are.



| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2016. All Rights Reserved.