Nylons in Oblivion

Define wrong she whispered. The glee of hallucinogens just beginning to subside. Peeling away the skins from the fruit. Cleaning up the juices they'd spilled. In the threat of ripening. In the plunge of harvests too ready to dig holes.

Tell me, what is happienss. Words on paper. Alcoholics remembering when they were poets. Devils dressed as angels. In heavens lit with blood. Pillows perfumed with semen. Their eager cocks ripping open zippers I never knew were there. The spill of moments. Like ink combusting out of the pen. In the brief lies we assume were us. In the docile creak of the bed laboring to define how close we were.

to heaven.

to anything we thought we wanted.

to remembering. to forgetting.

Define wrong. She said to herself. Wishing he could answer her question.

Or that she had never asked.

You can't carry your basket like that. With so many holes. You can gather. But you can't keep it.