Monday 8/06/2007 11:45:00 PM

Out in the open. Dug up skin. Red smiles under fingernails. The smell of piss on poached lips. The moon sobbing on the windshield. The darkness heaving as it pushed another morning out from between its legs.

Sometimes after the sex was sleep enough. To shrink into my corner of the bed and scrub the words until every sentence was missing skin. Scratching the eyes from the paper until every page was as blind as I was. Sometimes orgasm made me love them. Other times it made me wonder if I ever could. Like any super hero. The cape was not enough to convince.

I'd tell the words what to say, but they wouldn't always listen.

I mean, I wanted to be young, but not that young. Coutning the washes of sheets between. Naming each vulture overhead. Diving into deep pools. Only to surface in puddles. I wasn't surprised. Only just disappointed.

Waking up to less than nothing.

I'd tell the night what I was thinking, but the morning never wanted to remember.

Taking off her nightgown to reveal she'd forgone her underwear. Measuring his love in jabs of latex.

Close enough to happiness to know this wasn't it.

7 comments:
rays said...

brilliant.

Nothingman said...

Red smiles under fingernails

Rock N Roll!!!

May be you need a better sex life ;)

just a thought, ignore me!

N

alcoholic poet said...

rays: thanks so much.

nothingman: you are so right.

Theo said...

powerful images. reading here hurts my mind. riding the bucking bronco of collective and often harsh images... i like it.

Mr Anigans said...

thanks for visiting my humble hole in the ether.

Shell said...

ohhh my! "close enough to happiness to know this wasn't it" - GENIUS!!!

ap said...

Shell, glad you found it worth such a compliment.

it's hard to craft those last lines to leave an impression. when one finally does it's always nice to know.



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