Monday 1/21/2008 01:03:00 AM

I went looking for lies to tell myself. The kind that distort your face with plastic wrap, but have holes enough to let you breathe. I went out wearing the roll of the dice and came home with nothing.

Little girls don't know what they want. Big one aren't sure what they can have. It's not the men. It how willing we are to be used by them if it might mean not sleeping alone.

There in her Pandora smile she let the box open. Eager for a respite from all that hope. Curious. No. She'd seen it all escape before. And come back less.

Talking to Zeus in big fairy tales. Like the bracelets she still has pictures of herself wearing. Long winters that promised to end, but never did. Confections of skin that gave us away just as we were learning how to taste their sweetness.

I'm not asking to be remembered. I just don't want to be forgotten.

The words are fickle, but what they say is consistent.

I'm talking to myself again.

Sguar pills choosing where the sickness begins.

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