Monday 9/18/2006 01:03:00 AM

Seeing the red light. Paused at the entrance. The tumble of the cylinders as that key fondles the lock. I got myself back one night at a time. I didn't want her, but there was no one else.

Contemplating the temazapam. Yellow fingers drawing their knots. Until there in the middle of my sinus medicine it became clear. How very different I was not.

Once all those floorboards had been ripped up. Only the particle board under our feet. The furniture teasing at the tack strips. As they carelessly gauge the air.

Leaving the drawers open. So you might see what I've yet to wear.

The mosquito bites they left on my heart still make me itch sometimes. I scratch. Keep scratching at.

It only makes another scar.

Go ahead and cash me in. Before I'm worhtless.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2021. All Rights Reserved.